This past Sunday, my wallet was stolen. It’s annoying, but it could be worse – imagine if this had happened the week before we closed on the house, for instance, and I hadn’t had any legal I.D. when all those papers needed signing.
I lost the wallet late Sunday afternoon, and by early Sunday evening the thief was using my credit cards to buy bus passes (which I assume are easily converted into currency, or maybe used as currency). Which I find oddly reassuring. If he (she?) hadn’t used the cards, I’d be dithering, wondering if I had really lost my wallet or if it was going to turn up under a sofa cushion next week and I’d be regretting canceling the credit cards.
I bought a new wallet yesterday evening. It occurs to me that my 25 or so walletless hours were the first time I haven’t owned a wallet since I was a child. An odd, brief moment of walletlessness in an otherwise walleted life.
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