Bad week for my possessions

[ToLiveIsToFly]

Wednesday night, walking home from the train, realize I don't have my shoulder bag. The one with my laptop and my ipod in it. Crap. Spend the next two hours trying to find some way to get in touch with someone with access to the train to find out if it was still on the train and I could go pick it up. No luck at all. I do talk to someone on the Metra Police (did not know there was such a thing) who seems like he's trying to help and sounds as frustrated as me that we can't get any kind of answers from anybody. Nothing I can do but wait until the lost and found opens in the morning. At some point Mrs. Fly mentions that she's really surprised I would do this since I almost always keep part of the strap wrapped around part of me to prevent just such an occurrence. She's right, I do. But this night I sat next to a chubby guy (I mean, not as big as me but chubby) and there wasn't enough room on the seat for the both of us and my bag. But then, wouldn't I have wrapped it around my leg? Maybe I left it in the office? Another hour trying to figure out who might be in the office that late, get in touch with him, sure enough it's still on my desk chair. Phew. Half an hour drive to the office, half an hour back, I have my bag.

But I still have trouble getting to sleep, I still feel like it's lost even though it's not. And I sleep in too late to get to hit the gym in the morning. Not like me to oversleep, but then, that's why I don't have an alarm clock. Margy's now working Thursday mornings (huzzah), she's downtown and I'm home and the morning routine's a little crazy. Get Frankie dressed, get Rosie dressed, get them bundled for Chicago February. What? It's 50 degrees outside? Really? Get them re-bundled more appropriately. Drive them to preschool. Get Rosie out of the car, hold Frankie's hand at his insistence all the way up the stairs, drop Frankie off, take Rosie back down to the car, drive to the nanny's. Switch cars with Breezy (I swear it's her given name, I've seen her drivers license), it's easier than transferring both car seats in case she needs to drive anywhere, and also because she's dropping the kids back here later. Break down and go to McDonalds for breakfast (nice job, Bobby, sleeping through the gym and then not only eating McCrap for breakfast, but lots of it). Go home. Don't leave the house again the rest of the day. After the kids are dropped off and Rosie's down for nap-that-later-turns-into-bed-for-the-night, I realize my wallet's missing. Has to be in either Breezy's car or the apartment, and there are only a very few likely locations in the apartment and it's not in any of them. Text Breezy, ask her to look around in the car. She does, it's not there. Text her again to ask her to look again in the daylight the next day. She does, it's not there. Toss the apartment like a crazy person. No luck. It MUST be in Breezy's car, she just must have missed it. Well, not really, she's not an idiot. If she's looked twice, it's probably really not there. But I really want to see it with my own eyes. Ask as politely as I can if *I* can look through her car for it. Tell her I believe her that it's not there but I'm going to obsess about it until I look for myself. It's the truth, but still. She says sure, no problem.

So, now, Saturday morning. Take Frankie to story time at the coffee shop while Mrs. Fly gets ready for work and takes care of Rosie. Mrs. Fly picks us up so I can drive her to work. She's not happy. She's been under the weather and having trouble sleeping because of it (can't breathe through her nose when she's lying down), and transitioning from no job to one to now two for a little while, so this is nothing new. But it turns out the reason she's not happy is that there's a big gaping hole in our dashboard where our car stereo used to be, and there's damage to the passenger door where the little fuckers broke in. At least this time they left enough of the connections that I can install the new one myself when we feel flush enough to buy one. One new stereo every 2 1/2 years is our average so far. Annoying but not tragic.

After I drop off Mrs. Fly I go search Breezy's car. Nope. No wallet. Dammit.

Hit a pothole driving back to pick up Mrs. Fly and don't think much of it; this is Chicago after all, but it must have been a doozy - when I get there I see that one of the hubcaps is totally cracked. How the hell did I do that?

Well, at least it's just stuff.

[a1mamacat]

Wow

just Wow

[Queen Fantine VIII]

Is this one of those logic stories where we're supposed to figure out that you left your wallet at McDonalds?

[ToLiveIsToFly]

Is this one of those logic stories where we're supposed to figure out that you left your wallet at McDonalds?

Gawd, I wish. I did the drive-through, so that's not possible. My hunch is that when I threw the bag of wrappers in the dumpster when I got home my wallet must have been in it. But I'm pretty sure it's gone.

[Queen Fantine VIII]

Is this one of those logic stories where we're supposed to figure out that you left your wallet at McDonalds?

Gawd, I wish. I did the drive-through, so that's not possible. My hunch is that when I threw the bag of wrappers in the dumpster when I got home my wallet must have been in it. But I'm pretty sure it's gone.

Dude! I read that entire paragraph like three times just to make sure that there was no drive thru action happening. Not enough information to formulate a solid theory. Ask St. Anthony nicely and maybe it will appear deep in the seat cushion....

[peacock2121]

What saucy said.

[a1mamacat]

What Saucy said.

fixed that for you

[littlebeast13]

Wednesday night, walking home from the train, realize I don't have my shoulder bag. The one with my laptop and my ipod in it. Crap. Spend the next two hours trying to find some way to get in touch with someone with access to the train to find out if it was still on the train and I could go pick it up. No luck at all. I do talk to someone on the Metra Police (did not know there was such a thing) who seems like he's trying to help and sounds as frustrated as me that we can't get any kind of answers from anybody. Nothing I can do but wait until the lost and found opens in the morning. At some point Mrs. Fly mentions that she's really surprised I would do this since I almost always keep part of the strap wrapped around part of me to prevent just such an occurrence. She's right, I do. But this night I sat next to a chubby guy (I mean, not as big as me but chubby) and there wasn't enough room on the seat for the both of us and my bag. But then, wouldn't I have wrapped it around my leg? Maybe I left it in the office? Another hour trying to figure out who might be in the office that late, get in touch with him, sure enough it's still on my desk chair. Phew. Half an hour drive to the office, half an hour back, I have my bag.

But I still have trouble getting to sleep, I still feel like it's lost even though it's not. And I sleep in too late to get to hit the gym in the morning. Not like me to oversleep, but then, that's why I don't have an alarm clock. Margy's now working Thursday mornings (huzzah), she's downtown and I'm home and the morning routine's a little crazy. Get Frankie dressed, get Rosie dressed, get them bundled for Chicago February. What? It's 50 degrees outside? Really? Get them re-bundled more appropriately. Drive them to preschool. Get Rosie out of the car, hold Frankie's hand at his insistence all the way up the stairs, drop Frankie off, take Rosie back down to the car, drive to the nanny's. Switch cars with Breezy (I swear it's her given name, I've seen her drivers license), it's easier than transferring both car seats in case she needs to drive anywhere, and also because she's dropping the kids back here later. Break down and go to McDonalds for breakfast (nice job, Bobby, sleeping through the gym and then not only eating McCrap for breakfast, but lots of it). Go home. Don't leave the house again the rest of the day. After the kids are dropped off and Rosie's down for nap-that-later-turns-into-bed-for-the-night, I realize my wallet's missing. Has to be in either Breezy's car or the apartment, and there are only a very few likely locations in the apartment and it's not in any of them. Text Breezy, ask her to look around in the car. She does, it's not there. Text her again to ask her to look again in the daylight the next day. She does, it's not there. Toss the apartment like a crazy person. No luck. It MUST be in Breezy's car, she just must have missed it. Well, not really, she's not an idiot. If she's looked twice, it's probably really not there. But I really want to see it with my own eyes. Ask as politely as I can if *I* can look through her car for it. Tell her I believe her that it's not there but I'm going to obsess about it until I look for myself. It's the truth, but still. She says sure, no problem.

So, now, Saturday morning. Take Frankie to story time at the coffee shop while Mrs. Fly gets ready for work and takes care of Rosie. Mrs. Fly picks us up so I can drive her to work. She's not happy. She's been under the weather and having trouble sleeping because of it (can't breathe through her nose when she's lying down), and transitioning from no job to one to now two for a little while, so this is nothing new. But it turns out the reason she's not happy is that there's a big gaping hole in our dashboard where our car stereo used to be, and there's damage to the passenger door where the little fuckers broke in. At least this time they left enough of the connections that I can install the new one myself when we feel flush enough to buy one. One new stereo every 2 1/2 years is our average so far. Annoying but not tragic.

After I drop off Mrs. Fly I go search Breezy's car. Nope. No wallet. Dammit.

Hit a pothole driving back to pick up Mrs. Fly and don't think much of it; this is Chicago after all, but it must have been a doozy - when I get there I see that one of the hubcaps is totally cracked. How the hell did I do that?

Well, at least it's just stuff.

Is there anything you haven't lost yet......?

lb13

[ulysses5019]

Wednesday night, walking home from the train, realize I don't have my shoulder bag. The one with my laptop and my ipod in it. Crap. Spend the next two hours trying to find some way to get in touch with someone with access to the train to find out if it was still on the train and I could go pick it up. No luck at all. I do talk to someone on the Metra Police (did not know there was such a thing) who seems like he's trying to help and sounds as frustrated as me that we can't get any kind of answers from anybody. Nothing I can do but wait until the lost and found opens in the morning. At some point Mrs. Fly mentions that she's really surprised I would do this since I almost always keep part of the strap wrapped around part of me to prevent just such an occurrence. She's right, I do. But this night I sat next to a chubby guy (I mean, not as big as me but chubby) and there wasn't enough room on the seat for the both of us and my bag. But then, wouldn't I have wrapped it around my leg? Maybe I left it in the office? Another hour trying to figure out who might be in the office that late, get in touch with him, sure enough it's still on my desk chair. Phew. Half an hour drive to the office, half an hour back, I have my bag.

But I still have trouble getting to sleep, I still feel like it's lost even though it's not. And I sleep in too late to get to hit the gym in the morning. Not like me to oversleep, but then, that's why I don't have an alarm clock. Margy's now working Thursday mornings (huzzah), she's downtown and I'm home and the morning routine's a little crazy. Get Frankie dressed, get Rosie dressed, get them bundled for Chicago February. What? It's 50 degrees outside? Really? Get them re-bundled more appropriately. Drive them to preschool. Get Rosie out of the car, hold Frankie's hand at his insistence all the way up the stairs, drop Frankie off, take Rosie back down to the car, drive to the nanny's. Switch cars with Breezy (I swear it's her given name, I've seen her drivers license), it's easier than transferring both car seats in case she needs to drive anywhere, and also because she's dropping the kids back here later. Break down and go to McDonalds for breakfast (nice job, Bobby, sleeping through the gym and then not only eating McCrap for breakfast, but lots of it). Go home. Don't leave the house again the rest of the day. After the kids are dropped off and Rosie's down for nap-that-later-turns-into-bed-for-the-night, I realize my wallet's missing. Has to be in either Breezy's car or the apartment, and there are only a very few likely locations in the apartment and it's not in any of them. Text Breezy, ask her to look around in the car. She does, it's not there. Text her again to ask her to look again in the daylight the next day. She does, it's not there. Toss the apartment like a crazy person. No luck. It MUST be in Breezy's car, she just must have missed it. Well, not really, she's not an idiot. If she's looked twice, it's probably really not there. But I really want to see it with my own eyes. Ask as politely as I can if *I* can look through her car for it. Tell her I believe her that it's not there but I'm going to obsess about it until I look for myself. It's the truth, but still. She says sure, no problem.

So, now, Saturday morning. Take Frankie to story time at the coffee shop while Mrs. Fly gets ready for work and takes care of Rosie. Mrs. Fly picks us up so I can drive her to work. She's not happy. She's been under the weather and having trouble sleeping because of it (can't breathe through her nose when she's lying down), and transitioning from no job to one to now two for a little while, so this is nothing new. But it turns out the reason she's not happy is that there's a big gaping hole in our dashboard where our car stereo used to be, and there's damage to the passenger door where the little fuckers broke in. At least this time they left enough of the connections that I can install the new one myself when we feel flush enough to buy one. One new stereo every 2 1/2 years is our average so far. Annoying but not tragic.

After I drop off Mrs. Fly I go search Breezy's car. Nope. No wallet. Dammit.

Hit a pothole driving back to pick up Mrs. Fly and don't think much of it; this is Chicago after all, but it must have been a doozy - when I get there I see that one of the hubcaps is totally cracked. How the hell did I do that?

Well, at least it's just stuff.

Is there anything you haven't lost yet......?

lb13

His mind?

[Beebs52]

You know that "things" sometimes disappear and reappear at their own free willy times. Really. They do. I can't explain it, but it happens.
Which is scary. Because I believe that or that it actually happens...

[secondchance]

oy. just oy.