Appeasing the god of lost wallets requires only time and effort, not panic
It’s something I’ve done thousands of times — reach in my back pocket and pull out my wallet. But what if it’s not there?
I’ve come up empty a few times when I was especially forgetful. But that was just a matter of driving a few blocks to my house and then coming back to get my meal or groceries. Although there was one time I seem to remember when I left my family as hostages at a pizza joint while I retrieved my wayward wallet.
But when you miss your wallet on the farm in Missouri you could be searching 160 acres on the home place.
Luckily when I did notice I didn’t have that familiar lump in my back pocket, I was at my sister’s house. I had parked the car, walked to the door and on to a couch. How hard could that be to search? But, despite literally turning the couch upside down, we didn’t find it.
Must be in the garage or the driveway? Nope. Must be in the car then. I waited until I was back at the farm before I looked. There are about a hundred places where it could have fallen out of my pocket and have been swallowed by the ghosts that hide things in cars.
Not under the floor mats. Not under the seats. Not down the sides of the seats. Not on the dash in plain sight. I did find someone’s pocketknife stowed in a nook on a door. Otherwise little except some petrified fast food and a piece of wrapped candy which I ate. The candy, not the fast food.
It wasn’t on the ground anywhere around the car. I probably would have spotted it because it is bright blue. That seemed like it would help me keep track of it. Didn’t work this time, although it did help me find it once in the backyard at home.
By now a little bit of panic was starting to creep in. There was only a dollar in it but it was loaded with plastic cards that would have to be replaced. I had no idea how to do that. I also hadn’t finished the fast food gift card that was in there.
It was time to take a deep breath and approach this logically. I hadn’t been anywhere other than the cabin and my sister’s house. I lose a ton of stuff and usually I find it when I backtrack my steps.
I dreaded telling my wife and hearing the “Oh, honey,” that I knew would come as it usually does when I have done something goofy.
I enlisted the help of my wife and my son, a double oh honey except he uses Dad instead of honey. They looked under everything. Still no luck.
It had to be there. Finally, when I started yanking the covers off the bed, it fell out.
I had looked there and so had my wife. I can only figure that the god of lost items took pity on me and returned my wallet after a sufficient amount of teasing. It only required that expenditure of time and effort and extreme stress to appease the god.
