Every Monday,
Wednesday and Friday my neighbor and I walk. We meet at 8 a.m. and drive either
to the park when the weather is nice or, when it’s not, to a local college at
which I used to teach. As Wednesday was a not-so-nice day, we planned to walk inside.
I carried my water bottle and my cheese stick to the car. I cleared the debris
from the front seat—not much, just a couple of small items, a cloth grocery
bag, and the GPS that perches on the dashboard—then, drove us up to the
college. We parked, I locked my purse in the trunk, and we walked into the
building—talking, of course, because that’s what we do.
We dropped off
our coats with the secretary in the office and we headed off. About 25 steps
into our walk, I slipped my hands into my sweatshirt pockets to make sure I had
the three things I routinely carry: car keys, cell phone and my small, dark
gray soft leather wallet with ID and insurance card and house key. Jeans right
pocket—car keys; sweatshirt right pocket—cell
phone; sweatshirt left pocket—hmm, no wallet; jeans left pocket—still no wallet.
Odd, I thought. I must have left it in
my purse, which was, at that moment, locked in the trunk. I mentioned it to my walking partner, and she
agreed that must be where it was. “Unless,” she said, “You left it in your coat.”
I agreed, that could be where it was.
We walked without
incident, our usual almost-a-mile, and headed back to get our coats. We
retrieved them, and I checked the pockets. No wallet. I was not worried because
I was sure it was in my purse in the trunk. When we got to the car, I fetched
my purse out of the trunk and checked. No wallet. Hmm. Maybe it was in a
different section. I always put it in the front, but maybe in my haste this
morning, I did something different. Not front section, not back section, not anywhere
in my purse. “Oh,” said my neighbor, “It’s probably in the coat you wore
yesterday.” I agreed, but I was pretty sure I’d worn the same coat yesterday.
At home, I
checked my coat pockets—the green windbreaker, the navy rain jacket, the blue
fleece, the pink fitness jacket—all of them. I went into the laundry hamper and
checked my jeans. I told my husband about it and he helped me look. “When do
you remember last having it?” he asked (and, yes, I’d already asked myself that
question). I remember having it two days earlier when we walked, but that was
the last time I was sure of. I’d taken my driver’s license out in the past
couple of days because somebody wanted to see ID, but I couldn’t remember where
that was. He couldn’t remember either, and I was pretty sure I’d been with him
because we had been together most of Tuesday. (Retirement is such a trip.) I
checked the pockets again. I went through my purse again. I looked on the
counter under some mail. I called the secretary at school in the faint hope it
had fallen on the floor. Nope, she didn’t see it.
Where in the heck
was it? I could feel my heart rate speed up. I decided to retrace my steps. I got in my car
and drove back up to the college . Nothing in the parking lot. Nothing in the
entry. Nothing in the elevator (Yes, elevator. I’m old. I walk down the stairs,
not up.) I double-checked the office, then made my way to other offices in the
building.
Everyone commiserated with me. “Ohh, did you check your pockets? Did you look in your car? Did you check way under the seats?” Yes, sort of, not really. One suggestion was
that I go to Campus Safety and see if anyone had turned it in. So I headed
there.
On my way, I got
a call on my cell phone from my husband. “You took your ID out when we voted
yesterday. I just remembered.” Ding! That narrowed it down. “Maybe you’ll need to
go to the polling place and ask them.” Yes, I thought I might have to do that.
And I might have to go to the Secretary of State’s office and get a new license
today, and I might have to call about my insurance card. And I might have to
change the locks on my house because if you lose your house key with a wallet
that’s got your address in it, well, I guess you’d be foolish not to change
them. ARRGH!!
Meanwhile, I
drove to campus safety, which is in a separate building about 100 feet away.
Once I parked, I thought of the advice about checking my car. The car is pretty
clean, but maybe the wallet slipped out of my pocket as I drove, or even as I
rode in the passenger seat yesterday. I once lost my office keys under the seat
when they became detached from the rest of the set.
So I parked and checked
both the front driver’s seat side and then the front passenger side. I found a
gum wrapper, a pre-packaged filter with coffee in it (don’t ask), a silicone
packet to absorb moisture, and a receipt from the grocery store. No wallet. In
the back passenger side, I found absolutely nothing, just a floor mat with
nothing under it. Working my way around the car, I came to the back left. I
picked up a winter hat that was on the floor. Nothing under that. On the seat
were the hardware store receipt and the small purchases. I lifted them. Nothing.
I reached for the GPS which I had folded down and placed on the dark cloth bag
on the seat. From under the corner of the GPS, I saw a gleam—my house key. I
picked up the GPS, and attached to the sticky underside, there was my missing wallet.
Relief flooded
me. Apparently, I had taken it out of my purse that morning,and carried it with my
water bottle and cheese stick to the car. When I moved the junk from the front
seat to the back, I’d had that wallet in my hand and when I folded down the
GPS, I managed to stick the wallet to its underside. In my early morning
stupor, I simply plunked the whole thing down in the back, and that’s where it
rested until retrieved.
So the sum total
of the morning after election day: I spent one hour walking and a second hour
searching for a lost wallet. I know what is and what is not in the pockets of each of my coats. I received appropriate
commiseration and advice from a variety of people. And it seems that the
finding of my lost wallet brightened up the day of at least four people, as
they could laugh at my misadventure.
And if I ever
want to hide something small in the car, I know where I’ll put it.
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