Thursday, August 2, 2012

St. Anthony's great, but my hubby's my hero!

So I went to Publix today after getting my hair cut.  I'm on my own, feeling pretty good, enjoying the freedom of doing an errand without three girls in tow.  I browse the sales, getting some good deals, and in general feeling pretty great.  Then I get to the line...and realize I don't have my wallet.  Sometimes I take my wallet out of my purse and stick it in my back pocket, then forget to remove it when I get home.  So it's very likely my wallet is in a pair of shorts in my house.  I have a credit card I keep separately for emergencies (or this occasion), so thankfully I don't have to put back all of my excellent deals.

I get home and start looking around the house for my wallet.  My mom and eldest are helping me...I should say my mom is helping, and my eldest flits around the house, asking every 10 seconds, "Did you find it yet? Do you see how I'm helping you?"  My mom, in an effort to give us the chance to search, tells C that if she REALLY wants to help she should pray to St. Anthony.  The prayer goes like this, "St. Anthony, St. Anthony, Please come 'round.  Something is lost that must be found."  St. Anthony's usually pretty good about helping us around here.

10 minutes later I'm now frantically ripping things apart in an effort to find this wallet.  This is my debit card, my license, my insurance card...basically my financial life.  I'm no longer praying, I'm attempting to strong-arm St. Anthony.  "Look buddy, you'd better come 'round, 'cause seriously, this isn't something to play with. This is my family's future, and one day we want to buy another house...Dude, get your butt over here..."  I'm struggling to maintain a calm composure.

As near as I can remember, the last time I had my wallet was Monday night when we went to Walmart.  So I decide I'm going to call and PRAY someone kind turned in my wallet.  In the back of my mind this little voice is niggling at my brain, whispering, "Call your husband."  Seriously?  What's he going to know about where it is?  It's my wallet - he has his own to keep track of!  What am I thinking?  So I dial Walmart.

"Hello?"  A male voice answers.
I'm a bit thrown.  No identification?  "Thanks for calling Walmart" is too hard to say?  Uhh..."Hi, I'd like to talk to someone about a lost wallet?"
...."I don't think I know anything about that."  DOH!  I called my DH.
"Sorry sweetie, I thought I called Walmart.  Uh...I think I lost my wallet."
Now I witch about my DH at times - let's face it, those closest to us can totally drive us NUTS!  But let me tell you, one of the reasons I love him is he can be so low-key and calm in very strenuous situations.  So he says: "OK, well, where did you have it last?"
Now I'm getting very upset.  "Uh...I think I paid at Walmart on-"
"No, I paid at Walmart.  You took C to the bathroom, remember?"
The OH SH!T moment has arrived.  Oh my...oh crap...the last time I had it was..."Oh no, I think the last time I used it was last Wednesday when I was out to dinner!"  Now I cry.  That's more brave face.  I've totally ruined our finances, our lives...I've got to call ALL of those will be weeks until we can use our cards again...
Meanwhile, my DH is calmly studying this situation.  "You were alone on Sunday.  Did you by chance eat out after your class?"
I teach an ESL class for adults on Sundays at my Church.  "No, I came straight home because I wanted to---"  LIGHT BULB!!!!!!!  "OH MY GOD - YOU ARE A GENIUS!" I shout!  Being Anal-Retentive (please note capitalization and hyphenation), I have a separate bag for each class or group I attend.  I hate to carry the bag AND my purse, so I move my wallet to the bag.  I yank my ESL bag out of my coat closet, strewing mittens, scarves, and bits all around my foyer.  Front left pocket...empty.  Front right pocket...there's a suspicious bulge..."YES!!  I LOVE YOU!!!"  Now I'm a crying, snotty mess.  But I have my wallet!!  WHOOHOO!!

A chuckle, and my DH says, "Well, that's why you call the helpdesk, right?  For help."

OK, OK, and my thanks to St. Anthony, for trying to show me the way.  And not snickering too loudly at me...

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