Thursday evening I was breaking out into irrational (well, maybe not too irrational) fits of crying, escorted by moments of sheer frustration, hovering under a cloud of gloom. All this brought about a migraine that is still lingering from time to time today. As Friday dawned the day really didn’t seem too much better as I remembered the events of the evening before and was trying to decide if I was feeling sick or not.
For those of you raising your eyebrows and wondering…”hmmmm… is she pregnant?” The answer is “no” 🙂 and you can lower your eyebrows now.
You know that item that is prized by a woman higher than almost any other. That one thing that is forbidden to anyone but the owner. It hold the innermost workings of a woman’s life and her universe revolves around it. Your husband would sooner die than look through it, and children ask three or four times to be sure that you really did ask them to search it for a particular item. Well, someone – some unknown hooligan – has violated that prized item and absconded with it late Tuesday night. That is the kind of action that if the police don’t get you the lightning will – heh. 🙂
Yup, so for those of you still trying to decipher my strange cryptic rambling, my purse was stolen. We didn’t discover it’s theft until Thursday night when I was trying to leave to buy diapers at Costco. We couldn’t find it anywhere. We searched in, over, under, and through every thing. I even searched every cupboard and looked in the fridge and freezer – hey, I have kids, and one of them is a toddler, anything is possible – heh. We couldn’t find it anywhere. I racked my brain trying to remember when I last used it, and came up with Tuesday night to go get pizza. The pizza place didn’t have it, and then I remembered that Paul was in a hurry to get to Scouts and I grabbed the pizza and pop and went charging into the house so he could go charging out. I must have left my purse sitting on the passenger seat in the van. And that was the end of that.
Friday we spent the entire day closing bank accounts, opening new accounts, cancelling credit cards, flagging numbers left and right, getting a new driver’s licence, and taking lots and lots of advil and praying lots and lots that whoever took my purse doesn’t decide to completely destroy my life.
So, if you wave at me while walking down the road and I don’t wave back, don’t worry it probably wasn’t me…. heh
*UPDATE: No less than 10 minutes after I published this post and I was cooking dinner in the kitchen, Paul hollered at me from the office. In I came running only to find him standing there, holding my purse! Not my new purse either, but my old one. We had looked… both of us, at least 3-4 times each underneath the desk. I was on my hands and knees looking. Some how (give you ten guesses as to how – he’s short, adorable, and gets into everything) it had gotten shoved under – way, way under ( we are living in my parent’s house while they are on their mission, so to truly understand this, you have to understand that the office is a storage room. The portion we use is tiny, and we have two desks, one infront of the other shoved in there.) the desk. It was so dark and black under there neither of us could have found it. So after a weekend of frustration and renewing EVERYTHING the purse was sitting there all the time. I don’t know whether to give thanks or throw back my head in frustration and howl…
….I am very grateful. Why do I have the feeling this would ony happen to me…
Oh, and if you wave at me while I am walking down the road and I don’t wave back, it was probably because I biffed it right as you passed.