I lost my fucking cell phone. There. I said it. Not a great big deal on the cosmic scale. It's a clumsy slab of metal and plastic, not flesh and bone. It can be replaced. And it was a Motorola Razr, which is a hokey piece of shit. So good riddance in that regard - now I can replace it with something that actually works.
But I do love the ideas that I exchanged with that phone. It kept me connected over the last five months, when things were pretty grim for me. And I had some good stuff on there. Personal stuff. Some pictures, some text messages. Those things meant a lot to me. I mourn the loss of those things. I still don't really give a fig for the device itself. But as a chronicle of my communications, I miss it badly.