I forgot my phone.

My brain, spongiform with age and childrearing, is easily lulled into a fugue state. All it takes is a slight alteration of the daily routine, and I’m a drooling lobotomy patient.

I took the morning to work from home, using my family photos as a guinea pigs for research on backup software.  It was a slight deviation from the usual routine, but enough that my kids had to sprint to the bus stop (I got right to work and forgot about the little detail of getting the children to school).

I packed up all the props needed for the afternoon shoot (on the aforementioned photo backup system).  The only thing I forgot was my phone.

When was the last time you forgot your phone? It’s something that adult males just don’t do.  You might misplace a phone or a wallet at a bar, you might go swimming with it, your phone might slip out of your pocket as you slide onto your low-slung sportscar, but no manly man ever just forgets his phone.

I realized this when I pulled up to a stoplight, and jabbed at my pocket like a like two-pack-a-day guy having his first sip of coffee. Which provoked a second realization: I haven’t sat through a stoplight, unoccupied, for years.  I’m pretty good about not driving distracted, especially with kid in the car.  But stoplights are not for woolgathering, musing, daydreaming anymore.  Stoplights are for email.

When did that happen?

And should I forget my phone more often?