Yesterday, after I got back from my 30-minute walk with Mr F, I couldn't find my debit card. Sweetie and I searched all over the house: in the basket where I usually put stuff, in the car, on my dresser, etc.
"Did you lose it on your walk?" she asked me, and I said, several times that I didn't think I did, but then I finally acknowledged that I might have, after all, lost it on the walk, during which we'd gone over to the nature trail, walking 15 minutes out and 15 minutes back.
"Why did you have it on your walk?" Sweetie asked, and I pointed out in response that I (a) had it because we'd gone to Target that morning and I didn't know if I would have needed it so it was just in my pants pocket, and (b) it had been in my jeans pocket and so I'd assumed it was safe because that is what pockets are for, to hold stuff.
(SIDE NOTE: This is the second time my debit card has fallen out of a pocket; the last was outside the library on the night we went to see the cow there. American pockets are not what they used to be and I blame today's young people.)
We finally decided that I would retrace my steps along the path. I did that and Sweetie picked me up at the end with the boys in the car. No card. I did see two cranes walking through the field, but I did not find my card.
I had to call and cancel it, which was not itself an arduous process, but that meant also going and changing my information for various online services like Netflix. As I was doing this Sweetie said "Why don't you use a wallet?"
I don't need a wallet. I don't carry cash because I am not a drug dealer. I don't carry pictures of my kids around because they are on my phone. And the only two cards I use on a regular basis are my debit card and my library card. Those I keep in a case where I can carry my Kindle and my phone and a battery and the charging cords and also the Tinier Stegosaurus.
So I reminded Sweetie that with a wallet I'd have lost all the stuff people carry around in wallets, and then because I didn't have my debit card she gave me cash to go with Mr F and Mr Bunches to get her birthday presents and the Whoppers (TM) for the birthday dinner last night. So I walked around the mall carrying a couple fifties with me, because that was the cash Sweetie had. I felt exactly like a drug dealer, if drug dealers were to be accompanied by 8-year-old boys who are not so much interested in finding Mom a birthday present as they are in getting a copy of "Inspector Gadget 2" on DVD.
(SIDE NOTE: "Inspector Gadget 2" is available on Netflix but apparently Mr Bunches "already watched it on Netflix" and now wants the DVD.)
(SIDE NOTE 2: Nobody has "Inspector Gadget 2" for sale. This was not a surprise to me but Mr Bunches was heartbroken and had to order it off the Internet.)
Today, Sweetie's actual birthday, she found the debit card lodged in between Mr F's and Mr Bunches' sneakers in our front hall.
I'd said it was okay for them to wear their Crocs yesterday.
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