Phone.

As the weekend wore on I became more and more despondent. I'd mope about feeling sorry for myself; I'd walk around dragging my feet. I was miserable. "Why?", I can hear you ask...

Well, I'd been brought abruptly face-to-face with the realisation that nobody likes me. "Huh?", you ask, "but isn't your life at the moment one long, glorious picnic?".

That's what I thought too. But on the weekend I felt shunned.. spurned... at one point late Sunday afternoon I worked out that I'd sent texts to 8 people that day and only one of them had replied (she called back, but I said I was in too bad a mood to go out). And on Saturday... same. I had made plans to have lunch with a very good old friend of mine but when I texted to confirm.. nothing. And on it goes. I wore my "I judge you when you use poor grammar" t-shirt all day.

Now, just to clarify, it's not like I did nothing all weekend. I went to a fabulous and strange pool party on Friday night and then got an unexpected call from a new friend who needed someone to talk to, which resulted in me having a very pleasant drink on a balcony overlooking the harbour. And on Saturday I got a new bed and I played tennis. But it's not enough.

Early Sunday evening I ran into a friend (the one I call Neighbor Girl) and I asked her to send me a text... nothing. She tried again... nothing.

I fixed my phone. When I say fixed, what I mean is that I turned it off, opened up the back, took the battery and the sim card out and then put it all back together. And, sure, enough, messages! My balance has been restored!