Our Illness

So, I have this little problem. By way of background, I will say at my own insistence, I am the household treasurer, bookkeeper and bill payer (and usually am on time but every now & then I space something and get it in late). As a general rule, I’m also pretty on top of things at work. But as life moves along in a fast paced environment, multitasking is required I typically grab a pen & notepad (scratch paper; paper towel, whatever) on which to take notes so I don’t forget anything. In speaking with my dear father on the phone tonight, I realized yet another thing we have in common. Besides blood type, hairline, and feet, we have the same apparent memory loss.

Let me preface the former statement by saying that over my life span my father has threatened several times to take back his genetic material. Honestly, I can’t really say I blame him. But it’s been several years since the most recent threat, and it’s really moot at this point. So back to this problem I have. For the life of me I can’t keep up with my wallet. I “lose” it all the time. Usually it turns up under a stack of papers, the console of the truck, between couch cushions…but a few weeks ago my wallet was missing for almost an entire week and I feared the worst. Could I have dropped it at the grocery store, or in the parking lot of the post office? Maybe someone stole it (yeah right)…maybe the cat ate it. Anyway after an agonizing week my dear husband located my wallet. It was in the cupboard above our washing machine. (???) Apparently a set of keys to his truck was up there with it. I can’t explain how any of it got there. I mean, obviously I put it there but I have absolutely no recollection of it. And at best, that is just creepy as hell to do something and not remember. And then to wonder, among other things, “Why in there?”

So flash forward this morning I get an email from my father. “Your mother had a flat tire and I have lost my wallet with all of my credit cards and it’s not even 9:00 a.m.” Well, Triple A took care of the flat but he was so freaked about the wallet he called and put credit holds on everything. All day I guess it was just eating away at him so he attempted to retrace his steps. He met up with some friends last night, and had gone and bought a pizza to take to the gathering. He had taken his license and a few cards out of his wallet but pinpointed that purchase as the last time he recalled having them. Today he called the pizza place, and his friend to see if he’d left the cards behind…nada. So he called all of the credit card companies, and probably the worst part of all was that he just could not figure out what the hell had happened to his cards.

He found out when he got home.

After a daunting day in cube-land and on the phone and worrying and whatnot, he went home and put on his comfy clothes. And then saw, tucked neatly inside of his shoe, were the missing credit cards. The mystery was solved. Evidently at the friend’s house he had slipped off his shoes and put the cards in one and his keys in another. Of course when it was time to go home, he retrieved the keys, but not the cards. The best part and most humorous bit of this entire story is that he walked around his office all day with the credit cards in his shoe. Even the laundry room cabinet can’t beat that.

Next time I lose my wallet, I’m blaming the damn cat.