wednesday interpretive text

My phone has an app that translates voices to text. Sometimes it is kind of useful; other times, it is wildly, awesomely wrong. I started holding it up to the radio when I'm listening to National Public Radio--the text that comes out is always odd, off, and not at all what the program is about. The messages are usually quite anti-capitalist, which has made me start to think that perhaps NPR runs an alternative frequency that this phone app "hears" and that's what the REAL message is. A classic: "BMW eaters and king of queen's couch sitters." And that is basically what made me realize yesterday that my phone couldn't be lost, even after I'd sent out a million emails to my friends asking for phone numbers--I remembered that I'd been doing that phone trick on the way home, but the app seemed to have broken and it wasn't working, and therefore my phone had to be either between the car and the house or in the house.

And I found it this morning when my alarm went off. It was in my shoe.

And this brings me to how lucky I am to be engaged to Levy. Not only was he sympathetic last night when I was flipping out about my phone, but he also made me retrace my steps (of course, I forgot about the phone trick until the middle of the night, when I also thought: "I bet my phone got into my shoe and is in my closet, I'm going to go back to sleep now," but that is beside the point), which I did, albeit poorly. He also went out to the car in evening hours to do a thorough search. I'm glad to have my phone again but I'm much happier to have him.