Las cosas son cosas

About a month ago I broke my phone.  I was opening the front door and I had too many things in my hand.  As I pulled the door towards me and lifted it just a bit (it gets stuck sometimes), I heard the unmistakable sound of a cracking.  I cringed, but it was too dark to confirm what I knew had just happened.  Anjelica and Edgar were right behind me and I didn’t want them to know what happened, so I slipped the phone in my pocket and just pretended everything was okay.

A few seconds later I pulled it out and there it was.  One big crack at the top, and about four other smaller ones across the face of my iPhone.  Yup, this thing had definitely seen better days.  Now a couple of years ago I would have started freaking out.  My blood would have started to boil.  I would have remembered how much this pinche telefono cost me, and I would have raced over to the phone company to see how much it would cost to get it fixed or replaced all together.

This time, though, I didn’t.

In fact, the extent of my disappointment was expressed with a couple of seconds of nodding my head.  And then, I moved on.  I will admit that since then, I have pulled out my phone a couple of times and rolled my eyes at how annoying it is to have a broken phone, but then I remember: ¿sabes qué? las cosas son cosas. 

And just like that, I’m over it again.