Usually, when you break your phone, you smash your screen or drop it in water, so you still have your sim card. Melting my phone meant I kissed goodbye to the whole shebang. Hello, square one…

It’s Saturday morning, we’re having a nice relaxing start to the day. I’m prepping a nice breakfast and the girls are taking turns in the bath. I preheat the oven to stick some aubergines in for baba ganoush. I’m still buzzing after such a productive week work-wise. I’ve just completed a six-day writing workshop, to up my game for Podengo market research.

I go to get my eldest out of the bath and while I’m there, I smell a really strange smell. It takes me a while to recognize the smell is burning plastic. I fling open the oven door to see what was my iPhone SE on the bottom shelf. My phone, the case, and bank cards have all become one, swimming in a sea of melted black plastic. I use a wooden spoon to fish out the gooey lump, just in time for the battery to fizz and pop, in an extravagant explosion. It’s a hot mess.

Seeing my face, neither child wants to take the blame. Both are sent to their room. It took just under 20 minutes to cook my phone beyond recognition. My oven is HOT. At this point, I should mention that I manage the social media for Podengo, which means a fair share, if not most of my work is done on my phone.

The youngest finally owns up and luckily for her, she’s still playing the I’m-cute-and-don’t-fully-understand card. So, whilst my initial reaction was to wail like a banshee, what’s done is done.

The rest of the day is spent adjusting to life without my comfort blanket. We’ve not long moved house and we’re now living 15 minutes drive from most places. What if we break down on our way to the shops? Every so often I remember another piece of marketing work I had saved, attempt to mindlessly google something or check-in with my online community, and then I’m bought back down to earth.

How did we ever manage? It’s completely out of my hands, so I have no choice but to get stuck in. Sin distractions. And so I do. I take the girls to the local park to clear my mind and when we get there, I play with them. As in actually playing, not just pushing them on the swing and scrolling on my phone. No, I climb on the pirate ship and bomb those scurvy sea dogs. There are times the longing creeps back in, but alas the phone is no more. And besides, I’m a big girl now.

We listen to the radio in the car and hear an awesome song. I reach for my phone and bam. No shazam. So I bask in the song’s glory for all its worth. And when it’s over it dawns on me. It’s not mine to keep anyway, none of it is. And in some strange and cheesy way, I’m grateful for what happened today. Even if just for a guilt-free weekend to remember what it’s like to live in the moment. Nothing can be done about it until Monday. I have food and petrol, so we don’t actually need anything. I’m thankful no one was hurt when the battery exploded. I’ll be sure to double-check the oven every time I cook from now on. And at least I’ll be well-rested and ready for new business and the hustle that Monday brings.