Loser

Yep that loser's me.

Rent day. (Sounds ominous already!) Withdraw two weeks rent, and some, and stuff into my already obese-with-receipts-and-other junk wallet. Squeeze it into my purse, a swingy leather thing with a flap that closes it- and what should have been a crucial piece of foreshadowing- no zipper.

Get a call twenty minutes later. A good samaritan has found my wallet, matched my business card to my ID and has it in her lovely hand, ready to return it. Phew, without even the panic of realizing I'd lost it.

That was quite different to how things turned out on Friday night.

I missed my bus after work, and had to catch one that took an unusual route, involving a good long walk over hill and dale. It was at the fruit and vege store, grabbing dinner supplies, that I dug around for my wallet, and realized. Voila... poof! it was gone.

Tracing my footsteps back yielded zip. Calling the bus company, and asking the driver, zip zip. One carries a lot their wallet, I discovered. Bank cards, library & dvd card, drivers license, and yep that's all my ID. And rarely for a Friday, there was money in my wallet too, 200 unfortunate dollars.

For some reason I lose things I love or need, and I do it a lot. I barely notice my surroundings, it's a blur out there. If I was a witness to a crime, I would be useless. I'm too far in my head, stretched out daydreaming, most likely sipping tea and smoking cigarettes. Sometimes I have to wiggle my toes, just to remind me that they're part of me.

At the A&D clinic I've sat for hours in groups, one-on-one and with pamphlets, all devoted to mindfulness. Still, it's bloody hard.