Some days I just feel like a dunderhead. Yesterday, I realized my ATM card was missing from my wallet. I just got my new one a few weeks ago, and I had had to go in and update my info at Amazon, iTunes and other places. I used it to pay some bills by phone. Where it is now, I haven’t a clue.
Now, I know the card is here in the house. Very likely in this bedroom which has sort of been Command Central for me since the Day that Dare Not Speak Its Name aka Angie’s Adventures in Ditch-Jumping in a Crown Victoria.
I can only sit up in a chair for limited periods of time without discomfort so I sit here on the bed to watch TV, read, use my laptop and the phone.
I have not left this house and my wallet has not left this room since I got the new card.
It should be here. It’s got to be here. And yet Benny and I spent the better part of a morning yesterday turning the room over trying to find said card.
Have I ever mentioned I have a lot of books? And magazines?
And stuff in general? Arrgggggh. And it’s been piling up worse than ever over the last few months.
I did as much as my back/tailbone would allow me to do. Judging by the pain and spasms that woke me after only three hours of sleep last night, it was too much.
And we never found the card in spite of all our efforts. We did fill up a garbage bag with stuff I didn’t want or need, however, so some good came of it.
I am holding out for a day or two before cancelling it, because I just know once I do, it will turn up. That is the kind of luck I have, ladies.
I was cussing myself out yesterday because there are days when I am so much the Absent-Minded Blogger it is maddening. It is not that I am empty-headed; quite the contrary. There seems to be too much going on up there some days. Call them Blonde Moments; call them Peri-Menopausal Moments. They simply happen much too often.
Is it a system overload? Could be. Might have something to do with averaging only three hours of sleep a night. Some people do just fine on that; I am not one of them.
Lucas, baby, I can truly empathize. And I am sure I don’t look nearly as fetching as you when I am struggling with insomnia.
Of course, it’s possible looking at you and your brethren– Portah, Guy, Thornton, Deeming, Mulligan and the rest—is keeping me awake.
And I can’t get you out of my head . . .