Detective Work

I lost my cell phone again.  The last time I saw it was at the fitness center on Sunday.  Did it fall out of my jean pocket there?  I checked the lost and found and no, it wasn't there.  Did it slip out of my pocket on the motorcycle?  Possible.  Was it in the car?  I looked there and couldn't find it.  I emptied my purse three times.  I looked in my lunch box.  I checked in my motorcycle jacket pockets. I checked the pocket of my jeans.  I checked the pockets of all the clothes I wore all weekend.  I checked the laundry basket.  I checked the bathroom and all the drawers. I checked the kitchen table, counter and the junk drawers.  I checked the couch cushions. I checked my office at work.  I looked everywhere I could think.  I tried to think like a detective.  I thought about the phone all the time; even when I wasn't looking.  I called my cell phone while I brushed my teeth.  I left myself a message.  My message said, "Hello!  I'm looking for you but I can't find you.  Hope to see you soon!  Bye, now."  Because I was brushing my teeth while I left the message, it sounded like, "Hmm! Hm hmming hm uu hm Hm hm hmm uuu.  Hmm hm hee uu huum.  Hmm, hm."  Last night I searched extra hard.  I called my cell phone and listened, wishing I had it programmed to ring instead of vibrate.  I called it in the bedroom and couldn't hear a thing.  I called it in the living room and couldn't hear any vibration.  I called it in the bathroom.  Nothing.  I called it in the garage.  Wait, I think I heard a vibration.  A clue!  How exciting!  I called it again and stood by the motorcycle.  I could hear a vibration.  I looked in my jacket again and inside my helmet and found nothing.  I hit redial again.  I know the cell phone is somewhere in the garage.  Encouragement swells up. I hit redial again and stand by the car.  It doesn't sound any closer.  I hit redial again and open the car door - it sounds a little closer.  I hit redial again and open the back door.  It's in here somewhere.  I look on the seats and the floor - no cell phone is spotted.  I look under the seats and can't find it.  I hit redial again.  The cell phone is close.  It has to be here.  I get down on my knees on the garage floor and hit redial again.  Voila!  Here it is under the driver seat.  I found my cell phone.  I look at it.  Oh, thirteen missed calls.  Oh, right.  That was me calling myself.  I have a voice mail message.  I listen to it.  "Hmmm!  Hm hmmming hm uu!"  That must have been the message I left while brushing my teeth - oh, I sound so cute.  And, oh, here are two text message left by two siblings.  One text was left on Sunday and one on Monday.  I'm so glad I found my phone!  I think I will return these calls.  But where is my house phone?  I can't believe I lost my house phone.  I had it in my hand only a minute ago because I was using it to call my cell phone!  For crying out loud.  Now I have to use my cell phone to call my house phone so I can find that.