Lost and Found

I'm flying to Washington tomorrow for my first interview of the season. I have been fretting over it every night before I fall asleep. And tonight I tried on my suit and it didn't feel great...just okay. Maybe I'll get another one when I get there tomorrow.

And, just as I started to head out to meet friends at a concert tonight, I can't find my wallet. It is not in my backpack where I thought I'd had it last. It is not in the pants I was wearing for work. It is not in the pants I changed into for ceramics. It is not in my backpack. It is not in my white coat pocket. It is not in my leather jacket pocket. It has not fallen out into my car seat or trunk. It is not in my backpack. It is not in the bathroom. It is not in the bedroom. It is not in my backpack.

I flop out on M.'s leather couch thinking what horrible timing this is (the night before I leave town and will need my driver's license to fly). And even worse because it follows an awful fight with M. who left again tonight. I am now resigned to missing the concert with my friends. But I still need to find my wallet. I run through the day in my head:

The last time I distinctly remember having it was on the way to the lunch meeting. I'd grabbed it to take just in case I didn't make to the free food talk and had to buy the grilled cheese and tomato soup from the hospital cafeteria (the only good day of the week there). I did make it in time, though and listened to half a talk on ICU delirium before having to get back to clinic.

From there on the wallet travels are purely conjecture based on how well I know myself and my habits. I don't like it being in my pocket because it feels bulky, especially under the white coat I donned to see my patient. I know I took my keys out and put them in my backpack so the wallet probably accompanied them there. That places it in the backpack, where I thought it had been in the first place. But it is still not there.

Okay. It would have sat there until I left clinic around 3 pm and went straight to my car. There I had to get my car keys out and the wallet was probably still there. I went to a friend's house to check out some (beautiful!) shark tooth earrings he made for his ex-girlfriend as the last ditch effort to win her back. I changed into my ceramics clothes in his bathroom. Maybe if I hadn't moved the wallet to my backpack it would be there. I call him. He runs upstairs from his neighbor's place where they have just succeeded in "sharing" the high speed internet and cable TV lines. The wallet is not there.

Back to the backpack. I would not have taken it out while I was at the studio glazing a bunch of my bowls.

Next stop was home. As I was getting out of the car, I was loaded down with several new bowls and vases that had just been fired. And it was raining. I balanced the bowls around to the trunk, to get my backpack and the bag with my work clothes. I remember dropping my keys as I grabbed something from the trunk. I had to precariously kneel down to pick them up and got my knee wet from leaning on the pavement. When I got into the house, the pocket in my backpack where my wallet would have been was wet, meaning it was open.

So that leaves the wallet to have fallen out in my trunk, perhaps. I trudge back down to the car for what is now the third time and pull all of the crap out of my trunk: gym bag, ceramics tool bag, spare chair, text book, and cloth shopping bags. It is dark and I can't see well but I don't feel it anywhere still. For some reason I am not panicking, still.

Then...something under the front of the car behind mine, something catches my eye. It's dark, but could it be? It's square-ish and about the right size and could be the right color. I reach down; the touch says it all. It's my wallet. Wet, but there. Sweet Relief.