Friday, June 5, 2026

“Find My . . .”

                                                                              

“Where’s my watch?” Panic flooded through me when I noted my naked wrist. I glanced into the clean clothes piled on my bed, lifting and shifting in careless desperation. I backtracked into the bathroom, glancing at the countertop where I place it when bathing. Nothing.

Not too concerned yet, I attacked the mound of sheets in the laundry room, as it would’ve been a possible hiding place. Closing my eyes, I visualized whipping them from the dryer. Finding nothing, I got on my knees to search the floor while listening to the load tossing in the drum. Hearing nothing, I popped open the door, dragged out the nearly dry towels, and searched frantically through them. Nothing. I eyed the washer, hitting the spin on its cycle as I watched, and shot out a silent prayer that it wasn’t in that load. It wasn’t.

By this time, I recruited my husband to help with the search when he asked the obvious question, “Have you checked Find My with your phone?”

Of course, I hadn’t. I grabbed my phone and queried, “Siri, find my watch” with confidence its location would be revealed immediately. Nothing. As I’d never used this app before, I noticed it had a PLAY SOUND option, which I tapped. Still nothing.

Shaken, I convinced myself that I may have lost it outside. I’d watered both yards and rewrapped three hoses. My watch band could have caught on one and slipped off without me noticing. Phone in hand, I retraced my morning routine feeling dread as I found absolutely nothing again.

My anxiety notched up with each silent minute with my phone in hand. With absolute certainty I knew I’d set my watch on pause while at the park doing the weight machines, but maybe it dropped into my KAVU pack when I’d taken out water. Returning inside, I inspected it quickly. Nothing. 

“Could I have lost it on that last stretch of my walk?” I mumbled to myself as I  pulled on sandals and retraced my morning route. 

Eyes scanning the ground before me, I walked all the way to the park. Nothing. Discouraged and defeated, I called my husband to retrieve me there as I could’t muster the energy to climb the final hill near our house. 

Once home, I decided to retrace my movements one more time while my husband insisted on taking my phone with him on another park pass. 

I sat on the bed, reached inside the black bin before me, and lifted out each item.

My watch hid under the final piece I withdrew!

Relief flooded through me, and then a wave of foolishness to realize that the first moment I’d noticed my missing watch was the very place it lay hidden.

But another problem surfaced. Why hadn’t my app revealed my phone immediately as it never left the room? I’d thought that the Find My app had loaded automatically when I’d replaced my watch in December. It hadn’t. At the moment, our attempts to remove the old watch and add the new one have failed although we’ve gone through one step-by-step process after another. I suspect I may have to reset my watch, which I refuse to do as I prefer to leave my watch history alone. I joked that if I misplace it again, I’ll just have to buy a new one!





Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman



IOUNIO's "Invisible"! The perfect piece to listen to today!


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