The Lost is Still Lost
Like any other weekday, we showed up at Hannah's house to help get breakfast into Noah and take him to preschool. Lena, between summer camps, was headed with her BFF Olivia for an overnight at the Westin Hotel with Mom - a reward for her being accepted at the highly competitive Kimberlin Academy for Academic Excellence. But I digress. Hannah invited me to join them for lunch at the Galleria, a huge upscale mall. After dropping Noah off, I busied myself with cleaning a bunch of receipts and papers out of my purse. After we enjoyed a chatty lunch, I headed to the Clinique counter at Nordstroms to purchase new cosmetics. I went to pay and NO WALLET!
I checked the car in the parking garage. Nope. I hurried back to Hannah's house, certain that I had forgotten it on the kitchen table. Nope, not on the table, the counters or in the recycle bin where I had disposed of the papers. Then I returned home and called the restaurant and mall security. Nope. I called Hannah and she didn't have it. Andy and I returned to her house and conducted a wider search, thinking Noah may have walked off with it. Nope. Andy carefully re-checked the car. Nope.
There wasn't any untoward activity on my debit or credit card, but I froze them just in case. I filled out an application for a replacement and grabbed my voter registration card and birth certificate.Then we headed for the Texas Department of Safety, a squat little building near the courthouse. Big mistake. The parking lot was full and so was the waiting area. I gamely put information into their computer which spit out a numbered ticket. During the three-hour wait, some of us figured out that the L on tickets means long and S means short. I was S3070, and they were on S3049, so it would at least another hour. Not having had lunch, I decided to split and try a less busy day.
I'm sure there's some explanation that my beautiful Michael Kors wallet (a gift from Hannah) seems to have vanished into thin air, but other than theft, I sure can't figure it out. I keep hoping it will magically appear. When the July 4th holiday is past, I'll have to request replacements for the few credit cards I possess, a library card, health insurance cards, etc. and inform every company that direct debits my account each month that I have a new number. What a pain. Oh well, as my mother liked to say, "That's life, kid."
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I'm Chris Barabasz, retired from a 35-year career managing communications for health care development (that's fundraising for you civilians). I'm a wife, mother, grandmother and freelance writer. My husband Andy and I moved from Delaware to Texas to be closer to our daughters and three adorable grandchildren.