I suppose we should count ourselves lucky that we made it 5 years in New York City before we had anything stolen. We know people who haven’t even made it a week. And, I’m sure, there are people who live here for decades without having their belongings snitched from their personal space. Sadly, we are not one of those people.
We went to the city on Saturday to participate in Summer Streets (where they open up Park Ave. and Lafayette Ave. to bikes and runners and there are all sorts of fun things going on along the street – like the climbing wall we were hoping to climb, but didn’t because we got there just as they were taking it down). Somewhere along the line my phone was plucked from the diaper bag. The culprit turned it off so we couldn’t track it using the “Find My Phone” app. Blah.
I feel a little silly because I saw signs in the subway warning people that phone theft is on the rise and to be careful, but I thought that nobody would look in the diaper bag and see the little homemade bag I keep my phone in and think there was anything worth stealing in there, so I didn’t put it in a zippered pocket. And because I didn’t do that, I lost my contacts, my camera, the book I was reading, the games the boys like to play among other things. It’s really the loss of the camera that burns me, of course. I use that way more than I use the phone.
Today I got a cheap phone to replace my “real” phone until November when Micah gets a phone upgrade and we won’t have to pay $500+ for a new one. But I only have one contact in my phone, and that is Micah. So don’t be offended if I don’t know who you are when you call or text. This is only the 4th time I’ve had to start over with my contacts in the past two years . . . way to go Me.