I lost two things this week: My great Aunt (who was a little crazy and not much in touch with us and 88 and it was sudden) and my wallet (which was with me about 2 years).
Guess which one gets more sympathy at work?
Anyway, I'm not writing about dead relatives. I'm writing about the purse. Damnit! I'm fairly sure (like about 90 percent) that it's my fault. I took out money so I'd have it in my pocket to buy a croissant from one of those street vendor guys. Now, in my right mind I'd have zipped up the wallet and put it back in my backpack, hopped out at 8th Street and gone on my way. Instead, I stopped in a store, realized the backpack was open and of the three objects in there -- the purse was the one missing.
It is possible someone saw my stupid backpack open, reached in and grabbed it, but there wasn't all that much time (and very little standing-still time) from the time I got up to the time I got to the store, so I think I just had it on my lap and it fell off. The thing is, how could I not see it fall? It's a fairly big thing for a wallet (more like a clutch purse).
At work, everyone was very sympathetic, and all but forced me to borrow money. The only nice thing about the wallet loss is I had all the money already in my pocket, only one credit card (now cancelled) and my driver's license. The rest of it was just things like a nearly-empty phone card, a photo or two, an ACLU membership card, a Blockbuster card -- that kind of stuff. Some coupons. A photo. Stuff I'd have liked to not lose, but which will not be valuable to anyone who finds it. The thing is, I really liked that purse. Damnit.
I hope it comes back to me. Lost Property on the MTA say they won't get it until next Wednesday.
Poor lonely purse.
Oh, and bye to Aunt Beatrice. She was a decent sort, in a nutty way. Even if she did wear 60's style librarian glasses in 2005.