I lost my bank card a week ago. It was stupid. No, really, it was stupid. It's too long a story and too stupid, but mostly too embarrassing, to write about.
It fell out of my car at the grocery store. I am 100 percent plus eternity sure. Don't ask me how I'm sure - just believe me. Positively, sure.
It has been eating at me that no one took the time to take it into the store and turn it in. We live in a little city, it would have taken all of maybe three minutes to go into our small grocery store and do this kind deed.
He's Too Good To Me, who is 100 percent plus eternity less cynical than I am, believes maybe the person will drive to the bank and turn it in. Yeah, right.
But, I am no longer angry. To preserve my faith in humanity I have drawn a new conclusion. I believe that the person who found it is a world renowned heart surgeon, who found it at the exact moment he/she received word that a jet was waiting to fly him to parts unknown to save the life of a dying child - a child who will grow up to cure diabetes, all cancer, and save generations of lost souls - but only if he/she hurried.
Somewhere at a private airport sits a car with rotting groceries inside - and my bank card beside them.
So, whoever you are and wherever you are - no need to bother when you return (You see, I'm quite convinced world renowned heart/brain/all vital organ surgeons read my blog). All is well - card is cancelled and my mind is at ease.
Thank you for all you do - whoever you are that found my card.
