The Wreck of the Day

If you know me, it’s no secret that I lose one of the following things (work badge, debit card, keys, purse, wallet, makeup, camera) at LEAST twice a day. I have no idea WHYYYY this continues to happen. Somewhere around the eeeehhh, say, 7th debit card I’d lost I really started to pay more attention. Putting it back In my wallet, or at the VERY LEAST a zippered pocket of my purse after each use. Yet somehow, I STILLLLLLL continue to lose the SHIT out of these things.

Which brings me to my latest fiasco, which occurred just a mere few hours ago. I pulled up at the gas pump at Kroger because, duhhh, I needed to fill up my tank. *Side note, I’m not one of those people who gets gas when they’re at a half tank. I wait til it’s absolutely on E and there’s the possibility that I might just run out at any second in the middle of Peachtree Parkway. Give me a friggin break- that’s the only adrenaline rush I ever get in my boring life.* So I get out of the car, follow the routine, have a mini-tantrum cause I don’t have enough Kroger Points to get 10 cents off per gallon, I only effing get 3 cents off. UGHHHHH. And then start to fill up, when suddenly, I’m distracted by some snot nosed three year old in the car seat of the Mid90s Honda Oddesey at the pump next to me. “MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!! MOMMYYYY NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I WANNNA TOYYYYYYYYYY MMAAAAAAAAAMMMYYYYYYYYY” I think to myself. “mother of pearl I’m glad that’s not me. That kid’s got some pipes.” I notice his mother, completely ignoring him and pumping her own gas. I think to myself “if that were my kid, we would be having a Come-to-Jesus meetin’ about how we should behave in a public place and that’s the fact, jack.” The click of the gas pump jars me out of my mental parenting prep course and I notice that my total’s only 51 bucks! (small personal victory- I had budgeted for 60) I close up shop at Kroger and move on to Qdoba.

Get in line at Qdoba, survey any men eating lunch by themselves, notice 2 cute ones, secretly think that I wish they’d ask me to join them and then we’d run off together and live happily ever after and have a cute story to tell to our grandkids (well behaved grandkids I might add) about how we just randomly met at Qdoba one day over Ancho Chile BBQ Burrito Bowls. After I finally figure out what the “fresh-over-the-border” Hispanic worker is saying to me I order my burrito, with as little words as possible, and step up to the Cash Register. She tells me my total, which is highway robbery, and I realize that I don’t have my debit card. I mutter a four letter word, or 3, under my breath and tell her I’ve left it in my car- I’ll be right back to pay. Get to my car. Frantically search my purse. No Debit Card. Frantically search again, this time emptying the contents out and checking in all pockets and folded up koozies. Still no debit card. “GOD WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO MEEEEEEEEE EVERYTIMEEE” I cry! (no literally by now I’m crying)- as if it’s God’s fault I’ve lost my debit card. Ok fine. Time to break out the “under-the-seat-search”. I open my car door, bump it into the Acura parked next to me, Hope no one’s looking, and hit the pavement. I can only imagine what it must have looked like—a camry parked in the Qdoba parking lot, with audible crying noises, and the big ass of a panicked 25 year old, (with fantastic pumps on—black, pointy toe stilettos with a rose on the side) coming out of the driver’s side. At this point I’m in such a tizzy I bump my head on the steering wheel, drop a curse word, and move to the passengers side to continue the floor board search. I found some Febreeze and a pair of flip flops, but still no card.

At this point, I’m driving back to Kroger and assessing the worst case scenario in my head. OK, I’ve lost the card forever, I’m starving, I have no cash or anything to get lunch, no time to go home, I’m going to be late going back to work, and my future husband sat at the window facing the parking lot and is now going to hypothetically divorce me because he saw me having a full out breakdown in front of 10s of passersby. After picking myself up from the divorce, I’m going to have to go by the bank, get a temporary card, face the bank, for what I assume is my 15th lost debit card in 2 years, and on top of all that, re-do my makeup.

The card was at Kroger. I moved on with my day. I prayed that God would bless the kind person that returned my debit card. Honestly, I blame the screaming 3-year-old in the Honda van for my absent-mindedness. And I promise you I’m going to invent some chip that you can just have implanted in your left thumb that is your debit card, keys, work badge, and apartment gate key all rolled into one and then go on that show “Shark Tank” and sell it and become a millionaire and just pay someone to be smart and mindful for me. Cause Lord knows I can’t do it alone.