This type of thing

May begin to sound oddly familiar to some of you. Here's the deal.
I couldn't find my keys yesterday morning before work. Not any-
where. Now, the previous evening I had gone to bed, although not
necessarily to sleep, at 6pm. Yes. Again. My son had come up-
stairs and needed to used my debit card. I said, yeah sure - oh,
and be sure to get us some drinks too ok? (You know, diet coke
and the like. He's too young to send out for vodka.)

I heard him dump my purse out on the floor in the living room.
Through the haze that was my half sleep, I inwardly cringed, but
then thought, oh well, what the fuck. Ok - a brief side story. I'd
had a bad EKG earlier that day, and I've been having some in-
creasingly annoying heart symptoms. Shortness of breath upon
exertion that isn't even laughingly called exertion (like - rolling
over in bed for instance, or say - taking a shower), ultra fast heart
beat, that sort of thing. Oh yeah, and some chest pain. But really
the other symptons bothered me more. And the fatigue of course.
So anyway, I've always had some slight cardiac issues, but they
had seemed to be resolving until very recently. Now, they aren't
and I've had a worse than usual EKG. And I was really tired. So
back to my story.

I hear all the stuff spill out. I think to myself, Gee, I hope he's put-
ting all of that stuff back. Oh well. Then at some point, I go to
sleep. Fast forward to yesterday morning. I wake up. Dylan is at
school. I can't find my keys. Anywhere. Or my bankcard, which
he took with him the night before. I'm going to be late to work. I
am assuming my son has my card and also may have moved my
keys as he had my purse the night before. I call his school and de-
mand he be sent home. Hey, I have to go to work, ya know?

So on his way home, he decides, I DON'T KNOW WHY, to stop by
the Piggly Wiggly to get the drinks that he apparently forgot to
purchase the night before. He apparently is afraid I'll be mad that
he forgot so he takes this precious time that I am already late for
work to do this. He gets home. In the meantime, I have (oops)
found my keys. However, I still need my bankcard.

He walks in with the drinks, a look of panic on his face. He CAN'T
FIND HIS BILLFOLD. Wait. The one you just had at the store?
The one with my bankcard in it? And by the way, why the hell
did you GO to the store NOW anyway? Uggh! He runs back
down to the store. His billfold is not there but the truck that was
parked next to his car is gone. Lovely. I cancel my bankcard. I
have no less than eight items per month that come out directly
from my account. I now have to contact each of these places with
the new # the bank gave me. I go to work. He goes to school.

Last night when I got home my son said... You didn't call the cops
yet did you? No, I said. Why?

Oh. I found my billfold in the bushes next to our house. You know,
right next to where I park the car. It must have fallen out of my
pocket... I love you mom.