#211 – Trashing the Wallet

After five hours at the DMV today, my wife finally obtained her new driver’s license. She’s already canceled her credit cards, and the last of the new ones should be here tomorrow. Once her replacement ATM card arrives, she’ll have completed the restoration of the wallet she lost on Monday and found yesterday. 

As we’ve since pieced together, Sophia’s wallet disappeared when she took Prometheus to the Vet. I’d left the house early and she let the puppy out to do his business before heading to work. When she wet-wiped his paws, she saw blood on the towelette. She made sure the blood was his, rather than another of my nosebleed transfers, and then frantically hustled him to his physician. Luckily, though the dog had indeed cut himself, it proved nothing serious.

In her haste to bundle and load Prometheus into her vehicle, Sophia apparently placed her wallet atop the roof and forgot about it. The designer piece flew off shortly before she exited our subdivision. Focused on reaching the Vet ASAP, she didn’t notice the object’s absence until the doctor completed his exam and an assistant handed her the bill. Fortunately, they agreed to forego holding our pet as security and to accept payment by mail instead.

Sophia found her missing wallet late yesterday afternoon. While walking Prometheus along the street leading out of our subdivision, she passed a little girl playing with a toy doll. The doll’s accessories included a tea set, a baby carriage, and — much to my wife’s surprise — a woman’s wallet which looked remarkably like her own. Sophia ventured over to question the tyke, and the girl’s mother joined them.

Due to the noise of an approaching garbage truck, Sophia had to repeat herself so mother and daughter could understand the issue. The woman inspected the wallet’s compartments but found them empty. Incredibly (in Sophia’s opinion), she refused to hand the item over without proof of ownership … all of which, naturally, had rested in the wallet at last count. Thanks to the garbage truck’s increasing din, which reached a crescendo when the haulers retrieved the woman’s refuse, the two grownups practically yelled themselves hoarse in efforts to be heard as they argued. Their dispute might’ve continued indefinitely, had Sophia not belatedly spied her cell phone inside the doll’s baby carriage.

At last convinced of my wife’s possessory interest, the mother shouted to her child and asked where she’d obtained the wallet. With the garbage truck moving far enough down the road, both women could finally hear the girl’s explanation. She said she’d found the wallet on her front lawn and assumed God had sent it as a gift. When pressed whether there’d been any plastic cards and papers inside it, she nodded affirmatively. Her mother flashed Sophia a smug “mystery solved, keep your shirt on” look, before posing the million dollar question: “Great! Where are they?”

The child pointed to the retreating vehicle.

 
These vehicles are often quite noisy.

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