I've had to keep checking all the calendars around the house to make sure that today is indeed a Friday . . .
With a fair amount of alarm, Gareth realized before leaving for work this morning that his wallet was missing. For the first five minutes of the search we were relatively calm. When it became obvious that it wasn't anywhere in the house or the car, we assumed that perhaps he'd left it at Gaby's ballet studio last night when he was picking her up from class. He'd taken his wallet out in order to pay for one of her recital costumes. So, he left for work but not before I made him feel really bad (I had moved beyond mildly panicked into "OMFG! Not only are your bank and credit cards in there, so is your driver's license, but most importantly, your GREEN CARD IS IN YOUR WALLET!") because I'd pulled up the USCIS page that let us know what we were looking at having to pay if we had to replace his Green Card . . . $450.00! Being that we've just started the Naturalization process and that's expensive, I was not thrilled with the prospect of sending yet more money to USCIS.
Gareth left for work, Gaby got on the school bus, and I called the dance studio and left a voice mail asking them to please check for his wallet. In the interim I tore the house apart looking for the wallet. I even drove over to the dance studio and looked around outside, thinking that maybe if it dropped out of his pants or jackewt, it might still be on the ground. Gareth phoned from work to let me know it wasn't in his office either. Eventually the director of Gaby's dance studio returned my call and let me know that she'd run down to the studio to check and see if the wallet was in the reception area, or anywhere around the studio in general, including the parking area, all to no avail.
I let Gareth know that the wallet wasn't at the studio and at that point we assumed the wallet was gone. He called and cancelled all of his bank and credit cards and asked our bank to rush him a new debit card, at an additional charge of $25.00. New York has an online system where you can order a replacement driver's license over the web, so another $20.00 later we had "Replace Gareth's driver's license" checked off the list as well.
We had done a few loads of laundry last night, so I ran downstairs to check to see if the wallet might have accidentally gotten into the washer or dryer, but alas, no wallet there either. But I did find the mother of all centipedes down there. At that point, after killing the thing so dead that I'm pretty sure I even crushed it's soul before it had a chance to escape it's doomed body, I decided to go ahead and take my very last Xanax (I can't refill until Monday because I've been trying to make my Rx last longer. Not smart, especially now that centipede season is in full bloom!) in order to try and quash the rising panic attack I could feel starting to form, between the rapid heartbeat and the awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.
So, I walk out into the living room with my Xanax in one hand, grab my glass of water, put the pill in my mouth and then . . . I sneezed. At a rate that would probably rival a major league baseball pitch, the pill went flying out of my mouth, over the coffee table, over the head of the cat who was sleeping in front of the fireplace, and into the glass covering on the fireplace. Plip! went the pill! Up went the cat's ears! Geronimo (because of course, what other cat would it be?) immediately perked up and decided, "Must pounce, must conquer little white pill, must eat little white pill!" And he did.
I was absolutely !*%^@ing horrified! I rushed over to the cat and I, I kid you not, got down on my knees and said, "Give it back! I need it more than you do!" He just sat there and looked at me like the moron I am. I kinda freaked out about my cat ingesting a "controlled substance" so I called the vet. At this point I'm pretty much in tears. My husband's wallet is gone, I'm about to write another big check to USCIS, and now my cat has gone and eaten one of my Xanax. My last Xanax. The vet assured me that based on his weight (26lbs) and the dosage (very small) that he'd probably be fine but to watch him closely. The vet went on to say that he'd probably be pretty mellow for the rest of the day. Yeah, he was pretty mellow all right.
I really hope you enjoyed that Xanax, Geronimo.
My very chill cat:
He flopped on his box by the window and rather than try to leap through the window at the passing blue jays, cardinals, and robins like he always tries to do, he just laid there and dazedly watched them in between naps.
I spent a while longer turning over the house in an attempt to try and find the damn wallet. When it became obvious that the chances of finding the wallet were about as good as the late Ed McMahon showing up on my doorstep with the winning Publishers Clearing House entry, and with nothing more to do I flopped on the bed and started to sort through a basket of clean clothes.
I upended the basket and out tumbled all sorts of clean socks, t-shirts, and Gaby's camis. Something substantial hit the corner of my foot. It was mixed in with all the socks. I reached under the clothes and pulled out a small, square, black leather wallet! I had found Gareth's wallet.
The relief was intense and immediate. Of course, now Gareth has a duplicate driver's license on the way (which we can't cancel, I checked), and his bank cards were all cancelled, but that pretty little Green Card was right where it belonged!
I called Gareth to let him know that all was (relatively) well with the world again and that his wallet was safe and sound. I apologized for acting like an ass. It was never a big deal to him to begin with, but as I often do, I made a huge deal out of it.
At that point, feeling rather cocky pleased with myself that I'd found his wallet, I decided to run to Dunkin Donuts and get a large UNsweetned (sweet tea is just the nastiest thing ever!) iced tea with extra lemon. Once or twice a week when it starts to get warm outside, I crave their iced tea. I realize it's probably just Lipton tea, but I've never been able to successfully make my own iced tea (it's not rocket science, I realize this, but I have about as much luck making the stuff as I do pie crusts) and so I treat myself. In order to delay gratification, I ran some errands first. I even made a point to walk as much as I could, until it got to be too painful, in order to deserve the iced tea just a bit more. So I limp into DnD, mouth watering. I see the lemon slices, I'm watching them pour my tea over mounds off lovely ice, add four slices of lemon, put the cap on, and at this point I'm practically salivating. I pay for my drink, say thank you, walk out to my car, buckle up, put my straw in my drink and head home. Right before I get home I greedily take a huge sip of my iced tea and nearly spit it all over the inside of my car!
They'd given me sweet tea instead.
Well there was the ying to my yang, so to speak. That'll teach me to be overly pleased with myself.
I walk in the door, and there's the cat, in the same place he was when I left. He lazily turns his head over and opens one blue eye just a little bit, almost like I'm totally harshing his mellow by being in his space. He gives me a barely audible chirp (yes, our cat chirps. Does this surprise you?), as if to say, "Duuuuuuuuuude . . ."
I poured the nasty tea into the sink, and as I was bemoaning my sorry lot in life, the doorbell goes off. I heard the rumble of a big truck and I knew it was my buddy, the UPS guy dropping off some packages I've been waiting for. Last week I had ordered matching outfits for Gaby, my niece Cali, and my granddaughter, Kennedy from Lolly Wolly Doodle.
I also ordered monogrammed overnight bags for each girl. The outfits are lime and navy blue and so are the bags. Well, there was a screw up with the bags initially and I was left believing that they were sold out and that I'd be getting a refund. After back-and-forths with customer service they told me it was an issue with their invoicing system and that I would indeed be getting the bags . . . in about 4 weeks. Well OK, not ideal but hopefully each girl will have their things by this summer when I'm hoping we all get together.
I wasn't really thrilled with my experience with Lolly, so I wasn't sure I'd ever order from them again, despite having really adorable hand-made outfits. I didn't like the screw up, and then to have to wait so long for the outfits and bags? Yeah, it just wasn't something I wanted to do again. So imagine my surprise when I opened the door and there on my doorstep were two brightly colored packages from none other than Lolly Wolly Doodle!
I open the first package and it's Kennedy's little outfit. The second package was a larger box and it had all three monogrammed overnight bags . . . Cali's initials were correct . . .Kennedy's initials were correct . . . Gaby's initials were NOT CORRECT!
Instead of GRH it's GHR.
Oh well. At least the other two bags were fine, and Kennedy's outfit is absolutely adorable. I'm hoping the other two turn out just as cute, and get here just as quickly.
I think I'm going to go buy a PowerBall ticket tomorrow . . . and a safety helmet. Just in case.