Lost & Found

I was buying Christmas presents online when it happened. Clicked “buy”, clicked “proceed to cart”, filled out the required fields, went to the bottom to fill in my account information, reached into my wallet for my debit card and …

… not there.

Cardless.

Ixnay on the ardcay.

Hasn’t this happened to everyone? And isn’t this what happens next:

Your heart makes that sad, sinking, fluttery feeling but your brain struggles to stay cool. In fact, your brain often refuses to comprehend the missing card and forces your hand and eyes to go back through every part of your wallet. Multiple times. As though the card MUST be in there, but you’re somehow just not spotting it.

The card, of course, isn’t there. You know it’s not there. But you keep looking until, after the 5th cruise through the entire contents of the wallet, you are forced to admit it.

Now there’s a mild sense of sideways-ness, as though your whole situation could slide into complete pandemonium if you let it, so you don’t. You might curse to yourself “THIS IS WHY MY MOM ALWAYS SAID TO PUT THINGS BACK WHERE I FOUND THEM,” as you look in the other likely spots: a pants pocket. That place on the counter where you sometimes toss things (but why would I put my card there? You ask yourself, knowing that there’s NO reason, but looking anyway, just in case). The top drawer of your dresser.

Not there.

Now you start getting random as the sense of panic increases. The bathroom seems like a perfectly natural spot for you to have been conducting financial transactions, so you look in there. You look in your bed. You look UNDER your bed. You check the insides of shoes, under your desk, through the stack of mail. You open the cat’s mouth and peer down her throat. The card! WHERE IS THE CARD?

Purse is dumped out, contents rifled through. Now, of course, you can’t think about anything but CARD I NEED TO FIND THE CARD WHERE IS THE CARD I NEED MY CARD which is kind of funny because 20 minutes ago, when you didn’t realize you were an idiot who couldn’t keep track of important things, you were feeling mellow and happy. Now you feel – and look – like an escaped psychopath.

You pause.

You retrace your steps.

Back to the wallet. Back to the desk. Back to the kitchen. And just when you’re thinking, “I’m such a moron, I already looked here, why am I looking here again” your fingers slip across a familiar piece of plastic. You snatch it up.

Equilibrium is restored.

You go back to your computer. You make your purchases. And you slide your card, not back into your wallet where it belongs, but into your back pocket.

To begin the cycle again.

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