I spent all morning preparing for the first week of classes, as I know the next two days are with Torrey Maldonado celebrating MLK in the region. Around 3, I grabbed Karal, we hopped in the car, and I headed to Big Y to get grocery items. When I got to the parking lot, though, I got out of the car, did my usual pat-down, and couldn't find my wallet. I searched if it fell, I checked every crevice of the car, and then I returned home thinking, "Oh, I left it on the dining room table."
Nope. I couldn't find it anywhere.
So, I left Karal at home, returned to the parking lot, searched everywhere again and went inside to see if anyone turned it in. Nope. Left my number and came home to tear apart the house once more.
Dear at Anthony look around something’s lost and can’t be found
St. Anthony, perfect imitator of Jesus, who received from God the special power of restoring lost things, grant that I may find what has been lost. I can't find my wallet and I know I had it in my hands before I left, but I guess I did not. At least restore to me peace and tranquility of mind, the loss of which has afflicted me even more than my material loss. To this favor, I ask another of you: that I may always remain in possession of the true good that is God. Let me rather lose all things than lose God, my supreme good. Let me never suffer the loss of my greatest treasure, eternal life with God. Amen.
St. Anthony, helper in all necessities, pray for me.
It ended up being in the large, blue recycling bin. It was in my hand with a couple of items when I was shifting Karal to the car to go to the groceries. I had a brief flashback that I accidentally put a few recycling items in the garbage bin. I also recalled tossing a little plastic bottle and tiny box into the green bin before I left. I thought, "What if I had my wallet in the same hand?"
Sure enough, that's exactly what I did. I'm chalking it up to exhaustion and middle age. There is nothing more aggravating than a lost item, especially one that is central to existence (as I was thinking, How will three days hosting an author go when I don't have my license or credit cards, especially when Katniss needs gas?).
I am very, very grateful that The Great Whatever resolved the issue after the two hours of total panic. Okay, MLK Day...now it's for you.
It always brings me back to the time when Aaron Martinson hid my car keys outside the windows of room 301 at the Brown School and forgot to tell me. He didn't remember he did that until a week later and I was trapped without a way to move my vehicle.
