As we headed out to dinner tonight at a new restaurant to our experience, I went to the drawer for my car key, house keys, sunglasses and wallet. My cell phone lives with me as an appendage, just in case, as I remain always hopeful for that elusive big commercial voicework booking!
But the wallet wasn't there.
It wasn't in the office. Not upstairs. Not in my other pants pockets.
I remembered the last time I saw it - at LOWES, where the barely competent checkout girl couldn't figure out how to bill for a sack of compost. I swiped. I then had to unload a couple hundred pounds of other stuff so she could scan the darn thing. Then she had to figure out how to take the register out of manual...I swiped again.
Not in the bed, bathroom or my closet. Not in the car. I enlisted Terri's help along the way - she's used to following around after this Doofus and helping me.
Not in HER office, not in the living room.
My gosh, could I have left it at LOWES? But wouldn't someone - some honest soul in that growing line behind me - have called to me as the cart with x hundred pounds on it was no speed racer.
I called LOWES. Was put on hold. Sinking pit in stomach. What will we have to cancel and replace - has someone used the credit cards? ALL MY ID!!!
Then Terri walked into the room and handed me a paper towel. Actually a clump in a paper towel. A wet clump of something. My wallet. From the baggy yardwork shorts' back pocket deep within Der Schlitterbahn Kenmore Water Theme Park.
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