A straight flush

Putting on or touching up makeup in a ladies restroom is hard enough at the best of times.  But when the lights are dim, and the bathroom extra small, the process is made even more difficult.  As I found out last night at the pre-party for the Spring Benefit hosted by the Lincoln Park Zoo Foundation.

Dressed all in black, accessorised by my colourful and sparkly sequinned clutch bag (a gift from Kate the Fashionista), I rested my bag on the top of the toilet while I carefully applied some gloss lipstick.  It was then that I heard an almost indistinct, but nonetheless scary, sound.  Sliiiiide, KERPLOP.

And staring up at me from the bottom of the toilet, was my cell phone.

I'd flushed, and the toilet was clean, but I was still struck by the conundrum - to fish it out, or not to fish it out?  Discovering some primal maternal instinct that outweighed my initial icky feelings, I stuck my hand in and liberated my phone from its watery resting place.

Ever optimistic that it could be saved, I allowed it to dry out overnight and tried to turn it on again this morning.  Nothing.  It was as dead as dead could be.  

But when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade - right?  So I turned the initial depression of a lost phone into a cause for celebration and another shopping trip.  Into "Radio Shack" I trekked and the delightful young salesman not only found me a good phone, but gave me $20 off, and THEN re-programmed my new phone to carry over the cash balance on my account.  He wasn't able to resurrect all my old phone numbers, but you can't have everything I guess.

And at least I've solved the age-old riddle of why women insist on having the toilet seat down.  Amen to that.