Sweet mother of butterfingers, what a day.
Woke at 5:30.
At 6AM I was at the gas station fumbling for my change purse – in which I carry enough ID to get me into an American Military unit in
Decided on the fly that the purse was at home keeping my desk warm. Raced home, no flippin’ purse! Where was the damn thing? Now normally this would not be a problem. I’d have bought gas with the $5 in quarters I always keep in the car, and would have gone to work, no big whoop. But this was no ordinary Friday. There were plans on for me to drive spend the weekend on the Mendocino coast where I would meet up with birder buddy Don and a new friend of his from a Palo Alto Christmas Bird Count, Therese. But I feared I would have to cancel the plans for birding. I wanted to puke.
So I got on line and emailed Don that my plans were probably off for the weekend which might well mean his would be too. Then, it happened. The circumstances forced me to do something I am never comfortable with – I had to sit and think!
I get chills just recalling it. I rumbled around in that rat’s nest I call my brain and realized the last time I had the purse was at Petco the previous night, after which I had come straight home. No doubt the evil thieving hamsters in the ‘small pets section’ had absconded with my purse and plotting to buy loads of hamster treats on Ebay with MY MONEY!
At 9AM I was at Petco, railing at the cashier that my purse was gone and demanding a line up of the usual suspects – all their personnel and animals, from nerdy clerk, rats (you KNOW they are guilty of something), parakeets (who only LOOK innocent) to the Chinchillas (OK, we all know creatures that cute cannot be thieves).
An hour after getting thrown bodily out of Petco I hit the bank were I was informed that my third grade photo showing I was a trusted member of the Student Government Club at P.S. 47 was not enough ID to gain access to my bank accounts. I did get them to trust me enough to cancel my credit card. Still, I grew rather surley and I noticed the bank personnel looked somewhat upset; they flung $100 dollars at me, begged me to put down the dangerous looking mechanical pen and please-for-the-love-of-God, begged me to leave them in peace. Then, before heading to my downtown office, I stopped at the DMV office (don’t GET me started) and I ordered a new driver’s license.
Once at my office, I called Don, explaining that I had enough money to pull off the weekend if he’d front me the cash for Bishop’s Ranch, the sort-of-elder-hostel. I went on to explain to him how I normally am a calm and sane person and that normally, instead of panicking, I would have instead sat calmly while puzzling out the last place I recalled seeing my purse. I then added that once I had recalled what I wore the night after the visit to Petco happened to have a pocket containing the lost purse I would have concluded that on entering the car, most likely I would have tossed the purse down... and the purse would have… slid off the seat… landing to the far side of the passenger seat…
Yeah, sure, maybe you think it’s funny, but I tell you I was sort of pissed when I checked later on in the day and sure enough, on the car floor on the far side of the passenger seat was my purse; chock full of canceled credit and ATM cards.
DUH.
The only thing remaining in the purse of any value was my Starbucks card and a Junior Ranger card personally signed by Ranger Rick Raccoon.
All's well that ends well. After work I took the lovely drive to Healdsburg via the Napa Valley wine country and arrived in Healdsburg wherein I navigated my way over to Bishop’s Ranch after no more than 25 or 26 wrong turns and many simply horrendous shouts of oaths that probably ruined the grape crop of ‘ought seven’; the California winery industry may never recover.
All's well that ends well. After work I took the lovely drive to Healdsburg via the Napa Valley wine country and arrived in Healdsburg wherein I navigated my way over to Bishop’s Ranch after no more than 25 or 26 wrong turns and many simply horrendous shouts of oaths that probably ruined the grape crop of ‘ought seven’; the California winery industry may never recover.
Honestly, coming unglued in the face of emergency seems, I don’t know… kind of counter productive. I must remember in future to keep my cool. When I made it to the front office at Bishop’s Ranch I found a note saying ‘Welcome Don, go right on up to your room in the Webb building. I’d beat Don & Teressa there so I chose the room with the prettiest quilt and made myself at home. By the time they’d arrived I was maxing out relaxing with some reading. Overall it was a very happy ending to a very frustrating day.
[Management is appalled at the flagrant violation of truth with which Ms Miller exaggerated certain points, i.e., her being thrown bodily out of a local Petco, for which we humbly offer regrets for your inconvenience and a our deeply felt apologies. Miss Miller was suitably informed of the need for honestly in her writings and while not sparing the rod, all effort was taken avoid marking her fragile skin. That is our story and we are sticking to it.]
