So, last night, Lee and I decided to get tacos for dinner. There used to be the coolest little Mexican restaurant nearby, with the best taco salads in the world. But they closed, and since it was late and too icy to run around all over the planet we were reduced to a trip to Taco Hell. We used my debit card at the drive-through.
That’s an important piece of my story only because I distinctly remember getting the card back, putting it in my wallet, and stuffing my wallet into my purse. We never got out of the van. All we did was come home.
The rest of the night was uneventful. In the morning, I overslept, rushed to get ready for work, and stressed out over the ice on the street. We live on a hill, and since we had a little warmup that quickly dipped back into freezing, we had a lot of melting going on yesterday. Melting that ran down the hill all day and then froze back up when it got cold again at night. Asscrackers.
So I was late and stressing and already had that shoulders-and-neck-muscles-clenched-and-damnit-I-haven’t-had-enough coffee feeling. And then I grabbed my purse and did my usual check to make sure the essentials were there. Keys – check. Glasses – check. Phone – check. Wallet – ummmm … WTF?
My wallet wasn’t there. I checked my coat pockets, the floor underneath the table my purse had been on, and all the other usual suspects. No wallet. While I did this, Sylvester, my fat cat, weaved around my legs and tried to knock me on my butt with his lovin’. I started getting freaked out, but forced myself to breathe and think. Remembering the night before, I thought maybe it had fallen out of my purse in the van. No such luck.
That left nothing but the possibility that it had fallen out of my purse between us parking and the short stroll up the walkway to the house. We don’t have a driveway, so I’m talking street parking. We looked under the van and all along the walkway. Since there’s still snow on the ground, the wallet would have stood out like a sore thumb, but we were kicking up white stuff and looking under things as if it would reappear by magic.
At this point, I’m really flipped, because this leaves no other option than that it did fall out and someone found it. Since it wasn’t in the mailbox or by the door, it didn’t seem like they planned to return it anytime soon.
Asscrackers with a side of buttmunch.
So I go back in the house, get on the phone, and call my bank, credit cards, and yada yada yada, canceling everything. Now I’m super-late, seriously pissed off and close to tears at the same time, and wired up to be a witch all day. I end up being even later since I realize Lee actually has to go to the bank machine and get me some money since I can no longer do that myself. And I am soooo not about going through a workday with no lunch when I’ve already skipped breakfast.
All day at work, the problems came in like raging wildfires. Its that time of year in my field. Try as I might, I couldn’t focus in and do what I needed to do. I was too stressed and worried.
We have a passle of junkies living at the top of the hill. They walk up and down the street throughout the day. They’re always stoned. They don’t go to work. And they’re loud, obnoxious morons. We already had someone get in the van one night and steal a few dollars Lee had left there to have on hand for paying tolls. My neighbor has caught them scoping out her vehicle and snooping in her mailbox. We’ve had tools disappear from the shed.
Because, you know, apparantly when you are a junkie the philosophy is that since you’ve messed yourself up too much to get a job someone else should pay for your habit. If no one will do it willingly, you’ll just steal crap from other people.
So all day I’m obsessing about the fact that most likely, it was one of these junkies who found my wallet. I’m getting angrier and angrier because if I found a neighbor’s wallet I’d just return it. I’m kicking myself for being too preoccupied and dumb to realize it fell out in the first place. In general, I’m an angry basket case.
Then Lee calls me and tells me someone returned the wallet in the afternoon. They left it outside the front door with an “I found this” note but didn’t sign it. Nothing was missing, not even the few bucks that were tucked in there.
So I guess there are still Good Samaritans out there. Now I just have to wait for all my new cards to come, since the ones in that wallet are now all canceled. Kinda sad, huh? Back before identity theft was such a thing and I DIDN’T have junkie neighbors, I might have waited a day to see if someone who’d found it would return it. This morning, I was going nuts on hold with customer service on one card thinking that someone was out there trying to use all the others in the meantime. I couldn’t cancel those puppies fast enough.
Then again, I’m also glad they ARE canceled, because I don’t know who returned it or what they might have written down off the cards in the meantime. They could totally be cussing their butt off right now because Home Shopping Network isn’t taking my credit card info over the phone. I like to think that it was just a nice person and there would have been no worries, but better safe than sorry.
How quickly living near crackheads can make you distrustful, huh?