We’ve all held our breath at some point in our lives; before going underwater, to stop our hiccups, when being proposed to, while turning our key in our front door. I find the most common reason in this millennial age for our hitched breathing is the phone drop. I can’t count the number of times my iPhone has slipped through my fingers (by some powerful gravitational pull) and smacked a wood, tile, or concrete floor. I’ve also noticed that during that five second free fall I’m not the only one holding all the air in my lungs. Almost everyone in an eight mile radius is motionless, breathless, and waiting too. Each time the room has such little circulation I’m surprised I don’t pass out while reaching for my device. Thankfully my face has never turned dark blue and I’ve always chuckled in relief as my phone survives another sky dive. I do however wonder, if life begins to feel like one big sigh of close calls, are the “almost’s” habit forming and bad practice for a real event?

My real event occurred last Saturday when my purse was stolen on a visit to Chicago. I can tell when people ask me how the unfortunate incident occurred they're expecting a harrowing story in a sketchy alley, but the theft had less to do with the actual thief as it did my own negligence. I have a habit of misplacing house keys, driver's license's, passports, debit cards, and pretty much anything that I wouldn't want to lose. Of course, these things have never actually been lost. They've been forgotten in car consoles, nightstand drawers, and jacket pockets. I can't breathe for about two hours while I put myself through a harrowing goose chase trying to locate an item, contact everyone I know to cry about its missing status, and then finally let out a sigh of relief when I stumble upon it. My family tends to get frustrated because although they'd like to accuse me of constantly losing my possessions I haven't actually lost any of them. Not until last Saturday of course.

Saturday I left my small, black, furry purse under a jazz club table and began my walk home in 20 degree Windy City weather. The great thing is that I remembered my purse about halfway to the apartment and was able to contact a friend (who was still at the Jazz club) to locate it for me. The bad news is that I continued home, climbed into my bed, thought "phew what a close call", and let my friend take it to his apartment. His call the next morning at noon made me feel like the wind had been knocked out of me. He didn't have my purse, neither did the Jazz club, and upon tracking my iPhone it seemed all my possessions had new ownership in the suburbs of Chicago. The good fortune of "almost's" had finally run their course.

I learned that I hadn't actually learned my lesson during all the previous missing item incidents. They seemed like all separate, innocent accidents that had done no harm. Instead, I was creating a bad pattern that seemed to have no consequence. I began to rely on "luck" and a philosophy of "of course my things will find their way back to me" that led directly to the police department, DMV, bank, and a whole lot of stress. I think its normal to breathe a sigh of relief during a close call, whether that's dropping your phone or misplacing your house key, but its important not to let the fortune of one incident, or many, start to make you think you'll always be so lucky. Chase the things that catch your breath for a good reason and correct the behavior that leaves you gasping for air.