I had one of those “OMG” moments when I couldn’t find my wallet on the way home from work.  I’d just stopped at the store, and after parking, reached into my bag to make sure I had enough cash for my shopping, and my wallet was nowhere to be found.  I checked everywhere, under the seats, behind the seats, in my jacket, and then I retraced my steps that day in my head.  Ok, I stopped for coffee at DD that morning, then was taken to lunch, and then nothing.  I didn’t need my wallet since I stopped for coffee.  Then, in a moment of pure terror, I knew where it was..on the counter at DD when I added one more splendor to my large French Vanilla.  What are the chances of my wallet being behind the counter, or locked in their safe after a good Samaritan found it and brought it to the manager.  

I began going through my wallet in my head, trying to remember what I kept in it…a few credit cards, my debit card, license of course, registration, some receipts I wanted to save, and who knows what else.  I thought, “why didn’t I make a copy of the documents in my wallet so at least this part of the ‘lost wallet episode’ wasn’t a total brain drain, and time waster.”   I’d gotten a dozen of those friendly reminder emails, along with the wonderful uses of vinegar, and the warnings of parking lot carjackers.  Why didn’t I listen?

What’s next? Waiting on line at the DMV?  The expense of getting another license.  Calling up my credit card companies after going through my bills to see which ones I had. And then, it came to me. I hadn’t lost my wallet at all.  I had it at my desk at work when I needed to fill out a form that required a bit of information I kept in a secret compartment.  Yes, I really did have it, it was NOT lost.  Now all this took place in the matter of about 6 minutes.  It felt like hours. The stress of losing the wallet, the complicated aftermath of retrieving all that I kept in it, made time move very slow.  

I drove very carefully to work this morning, not wanting to have to explain to Mr. New York State Trooper why I didnt’ have my license (had I had a copy, I could’ve at least carried that with me until I got to the DMV), and a ticket on top of the shock would’ve been the last straw.  When I opened up my bottom desk drawer and saw that beautiful, cheap black plastic wallet, I felt the air rush back into my lungs.  All was right with the world for now.  I did stop for my coffee, and my XL French Vanilla just felt so good going down.

The moral of this story: stop what you’re doing right now and make a xerox copy of the important documents you carry with you.  Enough said.

TTYL,