So you think you’re the only one that totally bizarre stuff happens to? Think again.

Yesterday, around noon, I was searching for my cellphone. A friend was coming over, we were waiting for confirmation, that kind of thing. (The friend came by and the evening was lovely, by the way.)

After searching all my various bags, jackets, pockets and the shelf next to the door, I was getting a little worried. Next step: use landline to locate mobile by ringing it. Shockingly, this did not result in me hearing my phone. Images of my poor phone lying abandoned in a ditch or floating in a sewer filled my mind. (Neither fear is entirely unfounded, I once… eh… lost… a phone in the toilet.) Then, relief, a faint ringing. Very faint. Suspiciously faint. I haven’t been in any of the neighbouring flats in like, forever, but if I had been, I would have assumed that I’d left my phone at the neighbours’.

I go to the bathroom: still faint. Bedroom: faint faint faint. Living room: not audible. Which leaves the kitchen. It’s a little louder in here, but nowhere as loud as it should be. The signal cuts off as my mailbox kicks in. I redial. A faint, scary suspicion is growing in my mind. Plingpling… my ringtone is back, still very faint. (My ringtone is The Promise by Michael Nyman; according to xkcd I should be ashamed of myself.) Jonas is one step ahead of me. Same suspicion, quicker reflexes: he opens the fridge.

Yes, you heard that right: the fridge. And the sound of my phone is suddenly that much louder. Upon opening the vegetable compartment it grows louder still. There, inside a bag full of courgettes, coriander and corn, rests my cellphone. Jonas has a laughing fit.

And the moral of our tale is that my phone is a lot more sturdy than an iPhone, because although it was literally drenched in perspiration and cooled down to almost zero degrees for 48 hours, it continues to be in excellent health.

Also: I should be more careful with my personal belongings when I go grocery shopping.