The Lost Wallet
Lately, it seems I’ve been losing a lot of things—keys, hats, rings, and so on. Yesterday, it was my wallet. As you might imagine, that’s an important thing to misplace. Although I had been out running errands, I was reasonably sure it was somewhere in the house.
My wife needed our debit card number. When I reached into my pocket, the wallet wasn’t there. I panicked. But after a moment’s reflection, I reminded myself it had to be in the house, the car, or somewhere in between.
First, I checked all my pockets—pants, vest, coat. Then I retraced my steps inside: my chair, the bathroom, the back porch. No luck. So I moved on to the car. Still nothing.
Then my wife offered to help. Knowing I often overlook things in plain sight, she grabbed a flashlight and headed for the car. Meanwhile, I repeated my search—once, twice, three times.
When I finally joined her outside, the hunt had turned into a full-blown cleaning session. I’m embarrassed to admit that was a job all on its own. Discouraged, we returned to the house.
As we walked in, I suddenly remembered I had spent some time fixing the doggy door. It had gotten stuck, and our Papillons couldn’t get in or out. I glanced at the clear floor and sighed, “Well, it’s not here either.”
But Brenda said, “Yes, it is!”
I had completely missed it—camouflaged on top of the brown dog food.
Relieved, I had to laugh. Just another one of life’s little mishaps.
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