Cell Phones Hate Me

In May, 2007 we were about to depart for a three week vacation to the east coast. I did one last load of laundry, including my cell phone. I wasn't using the cell phone much, but I needed it for emergencies while traveling. The first stop on our trip was the cell phone store where I purchased a new cell phone.
A year or so later, I dropped that cell phone on the kitchen floor, the back popped off and the battery disappeared. It was never found. The floor was carefully swept, all appliances were searched under, every lower level shelf was cleaned out. The battery never showed up -- still hasn't some three years later. I purchased a replacement.
A year later, I washed that cell phone and it never returned to life. By that time, I had grown a bit dependent on the cell phone and had several important contact numbers saved on it. Those numbers were lost because I had not saved them to the undamaged SIM card, but instead stored them in the phone's memory, which was wiped out in the laundry.
Last year, I got a new phone and had it set up so that my stored phone numbers were saved on my SIM card.
Today, my cell phone fell from the dining room table. It popped open and although the battery remained in place, the SIM card was dislodged and disappeared on the hardwood floor. It's a little bitty sucker and we've swept carefully, moved all the furniture with no luck. Now all my numbers are lost again.
Is it me? It's not a love/hate relationship with my cell phone -- it's more a dislike/hate situation. I dislike them, they hate me. One thing I like even less than the phone, is the phone store. And I think I have to go there tomorrow. Arrrrgggggghhhhh!