first cordless phone

It’s my daughter’s fault that he have one of those new fangled phones without any cords. I figured if I could go through my teen years stretching the phone cord into the nearest closet for privacy, so could she.
She didn’t agree. She begged, pleaded and whined for a phone in her room. I refused. I was not going to indulge her or stretch the family budget for that kind of luxury.
Then I found a working cordless phone at a garage sale for a couple of dollars. I brought it home, stuck in a new batter and suddenly everyone could talk on the phone in the bedroom any time they wanted. We could have private conversations without tripping anyone walking between the dining room and kitchen. With careful planing, a leisurely soak in the tub id not have to be interrupted to race to answer the phone. I could even keep on talking while I grabbed clothes out of the dryer before they got wrinkled.
The cordless phone was so convenient we got another one.
Only then did I realize the inconvenience of our modern convenience. Two mornings in a row I found a cordless phone on the floor. Once where I had dropped it after a late night chat. The other time I was beside my husband’s lounge chair.
The household chores now include finding the cordless phones and returning them to their stands to be recharged. If I don’t, I reach for a cordless phone, that isn’t there.
As happened the day my son called. Even though I couldn’t find the cordless receiver, the phone was blaring out its ring to be answered. I ran to answer on the only phone we still have tied down.
As we talked, my mind was busy trying to figure out where I had laid the missing cordless phone. I was the only on home. I had used it that afternoon. Therefore I was the only one who could have misplaced it.
“Just a minute, let me go to another phone,” I said.
I put the permanently attached phone beside its cradle, ran to the bedroom and grabbed the cordless phone off its stand, “OK I’m back.”
As we talked, I walked around looking for the lost cordless phone, taking care of other mislaid items. I didn’t find the phone in any of my usual “lay it down here” places, the bed, the counter or the couch.
We talked about my son’s new job, his children, his computer. I chatted about my week, his siblings, his idea for a community family e-mail clearing house. I took care of the glasses I had left on the floor, loaded a couple dishes in the dishwasher, straightened a pillow on the bed, took care of the tub cleanser in the bathroom and there was the other cordless phone, in the bathroom cupboard on top of our supply of soap.
I still don’t know how it got there, why or what I was doing when I put it there, but I did find it. I interrupted our conversation to announced, “I found the other phone.”
“You know you do have a button you can push to help you locate it, don’t you?” my son drily commented.
“I do?” I walked over to the stand and studied it.
He as right! We do!
This new-fangled cordless phone may not be so terribly inconvenient after all.