Black black skies with white white stars. Orion is tilted drunkenly to the left, leaning over our driveway. The big dipper lies lopsided across the other side of the sky, a big ol’ bowl of stars above my head. Our 5-day dog’s back end wags to and fro, tail in counterpoint. Her surprisingly small feet make swishy prints in the sparkley snow powder. I huff above the edge of the scarf wrapped over my head and around my neck: dragonbreath blooms and my glasses fog.
I’m making messes of one-dish wonders for lunch lately; I’m sick of salads. Rice or pasta with chicken and sun-dried tomatoes, artichokes, black olives, a dash of cream and artichoke pesto and some pine nuts. Yum.
On Valentine’s Day, my colleague and I ran to town to get some small Valentine’s goodies for our kids and stopped for lunch afterward and I had that horrible panicky feeling of ohshitohshitohSHIT when I pulled out my wallet and came face to face with the empty space where my card was supposed to be…and couldn’t remember when I’d used it last. It was Monday and I hadn’t BEEN anywhere all weekend. I thought frantically, wracking my brain. Thursday! I’d bought gas with it. Friday! I’d paid for lunch for an American colleague in town for a course…called the restaurant: they didn’t have it. I hadn’t BEEN anywhere else. I hadn’t BOUGHT anything. After about half an hour of creeping dread, I called the bank and canceled the card.
15 minutes later I thought to call home and ask Karin to check the pockets of my jackets hanging in the laundry room. On Saturday, Martin and I had gone for a walk and I took my debit card with me as we planned to stop at the nursery on the way back so I could buy a hostess gift for the couple who were having us to dinner that night, only it was closed when we got there. Sure enough, the card was in the pocket of the jacket I had worn. *sigh* “Cut it up,” I told Karin. Sometimes I’m just too quick for my own good. On the other hand, if it HAD been stolen somehow, someone could easily have purchased a $2500 fur coat with it during that time span, like they did the time my wallet was stolen from my purse in Chicago years ago.
This kind of thing has happened WAY too many times in the past year.
I got the new card last week, but didn’t get the new pin code until today. I’ve had the same pin code for THIRTEEN years. How the heck am I going to remember a new one? There are so many small sets of numbers floating around in my brain, it’s a wonder I ever remember any of them, given my numerical deficiencies.
Yesterday, I was in such a funk at work that I came home and snapped everyone’s head off. Thankfully, I’d booked a massage for 5 pm and she did a good job of getting my shoulders back down from around my ears where they’ve been for a week since we moved offices. Anders took the kids to the mall to buy a new jacket (Martin) and new soccer shoes (Karin) and while they were there, he picked up the new Roxette CD for me to cheer me up. It worked.
*Title mangled from a quote by Abraham Lincoln