It was going to be a full back-to-back kind of day, and I was prepared and ready. I had an appointment, then three conference calls one after the other before returning to my office. Since I was going to be out, I had my laptop, my headset, my phone; I was good to go. 

Phone in one hand, the other occupied by my tea mug and keys I turned to leave the salon to make my first call.

In what felt like slow motion, my lifeline to business and the world bobbled three times in and just out of my air-clutching, one-handed attempts to grasp it. Despite my best juggling skills, it crashed face down on the pebble and concrete floor at my feet. A collective gasp filled the room as all eyes turned toward the piercing sound dreaded by technology-tethered humans today.

It wasn't smooth tile. The phone didn't land on its back or even front with the cover closed. I looked at the lovely textured pebble entry way with a new non-appreciation. I took a breath hoping that by some miracle my phone was functional. As I gently turned it over, my eyes were met with a multicolored line jumble reflected through fragments of cracked glass resembling a 1960's television screen after program sign off. And then it went black.

She's probably wondering what happened to me. Rats, her number was in my phone..... Another sound, it's my text tone. Oh no, I can't see who is texting me! One conference call missed. Ok, get a grip, I can return to my office to make the others. I can email my friends when I get there and let them know I can't get texts or calls right now. They'll have to call my landline. (Thank God I still have one.)

On the way, I veer into a shopping center with a Verizon store. I stride in and answered the guy's greeting with one word: "Help!" He confirmed my phone had bit the proverbial dust but that he could order a new one that would be shipped the next day. I said thank you and mentally started to adjust my thoughts and schedule around twenty-four hours without a cell phone, its delivery timing, and knowing with whom I had appointments scheduled. 

I glanced up at the wall of accessories and saw the tempered glass screen covers. Three months prior my sister had told me about how hers saved her phone when she dropped it.  "What a great idea!" I thought. "I'll have to get one when I get back to Arizona" I said with full intention. I MEANT to get one. But somehow that intention never made it to the front burner of actually walking into a store prior to this moment and buying it.

As I handed Tim the sympathetic Verizon representative my credit card to cover the $100 insurance cost, I added: "And I'll take one of the tempered glass covers too please." Out loud I shared with him my realization of the moment: "Intentions without action are meaningless." 

Part 2 to follow.......