I inadvertently left my mobile phone in my beloved’s apartment this morning. I plugged it into the wall to replenish the battery during my morning ablutions, but I forgot it afterwards. And I discovered that it was missing more than an hour later, when I touched my pocket only to discover that it was empty. Although I did not exactly panic, I started thinking feverishly about returning to the apartment as soon as possible. What if my beloved sends me a text-message? More important, what will she make of my unusual silence? She will start worrying, of course. As thoughts like these piled up, I opened my laptop and started writing about my discomfiture. Thus this piece, it goes without saying. If anything else, it offers one more example of how writing helps me along whenever I find myself adrift for whatever reason. And it does help, to be sure. I can marshal my thoughts so much better when I write than when I simply think. Which reminds me of my ruminations about writing yoga so many years back (“Writing Yoga,” August 22, 2007). Like all of yoga, it is a most practical pursuit. Returning to my mobile phone, I will retrieve it soon enough. What is half an hour in the fullness of time, anyhow?