I spent all of Saturday worrying about not being able to find my wallet.
I know I had it when we went out for dinner at Salazar's with Meleena after picking M up from FHS - where they were wrapping up preparations for winning their division in the AcaDec competition - because I used it to pay for dinner. Well, not actually the wallet, but the ATM card in there.
I was pretty sure it was in my pocket when we stopped at Valero to pick up something for dessert and helped the lady who needed directions to Redding and who had been given completely the wrong advice by her brother or some other relative.
But after that I had no memory of what I did with it when I got home. The most common places I leave it are in the laundry room - where we have a little compartment thingy for that very purpose - on the dining table or in the office. It wasn't there. Nor was it on the coffee table, under the sofas, in the kitchen drawers, by the bath tub, under (or in) the cars in the garage, in the living room, in the guest bedroom, under our bed, in the dirty laundry basket, in the recycles bag or anywhere else. I looked in places both obvious and not. I even called Salazar's - and then stopped by there - to see if they had found it, to no avail.
It's a strange thing losing your wallet. Happily, it's not something that happens to me very often at all. But when it does I get an overwhelming sense of helplessness. More so than if I were to lose just about anything else. Without my wallet I was forced to abandon my plan to take my car to the carwash. Without my wallet I had to scratch borrow a couple of dollars from M in order to get my coffee at Starbucks - and I didn't have my gold club card so couldn't get my 10% discount! And I had to scratch around the house to get a few bucks together in order to go to Subway and get my $3.50 6" Tuna Sub sandwich.
But it's more than that. I felt like I hadn't only last wallet, but that part of my identity was missing too - my lucky dollar from my very first trip to the US, my 10th haircut is free card from Shear (get it?) Magic that I'm always self-concious about using, the business card of the last limo driver we used in Vegas (who said she could get us a deal at some more 'adult' establishments off-strip), my Costco membership card (simultaneously the bringer of so much join at Xmas and other celebratory occasions and the bearer of stress over just how much will we have to spend and whether M will play the 'put 3 things back' game when we get to the checkout), or the phone number of the waitress... er, sorry, didn't mean to mention that. Not to mention that my drivers license - my proof of identity, and that I'm over 21 for the purposes of buying alcohol and gambling (sometimes it's more trouble than it's worth to look so youthful) - was literally missing.
You see, it wasn't just that I am leaving on a business trip today and losing my bank and credit cards would have been extremely inconvenient. And it wasn't just the immense frustration of losing something important that is either always extremely close at hand or in a known place where I know it's safe. It wasn't even the embarrassment of losing something that is usually what I make fun of other people about. It was that so much of your life, of the mark you make in the world, of your interactions with others - economically and socially - tend to pass through your wallet, making it so much more than a cool, eye-catching silver duct tape holder of plastic cards and bits of paper. Somehow it becomes a part of you.
And for 18 hours on Saturday - while all the excitement of the Fresno County Academic Decathlon competition was unfolding, and until Meleena came back to our place and found it in the most clearly visible location imaginable (on top of Cornflake's scratching post by the stone pillar in our Family room) - it felt like that part of me was missing.
Thank you Meleena. I'm only sorry that there were only 4 dollars in there for you to claim as your reward. Please know that I'm very grateful indeed.
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