As silly as it sounds, your column almost made me cry--with relief. I, too, have the stages--the denial, grief, the anger at myself (sometimes fury really). In my age, I have (sometimes) learned the wisdom of telling myself: Ah, the universe needs me to find something else (because I often do!) before I'm able to find what I've lost, and I keep looking faithfully until I find the Mysterious Waiting to Be Found thing and then believing I'll find my lost thing.
But recently in the Cotswolds, I lost my debit card. This is a terrible thing to lose while traveling--or any time for that matter, but especially while on the road. I knew exactly where I had used it last (buying a hostess gift at the flapjacks store in the cute little town square of Squat on the Road or Stow on the Wold or Moor on the Inn or Whatever.). Then we'd walked around the corner to a restaurant for one of the best meals I've ever had--for which I could not immediately pay because of aforesaid "loss." I didn't do my usual stages. I just went straight to Freak Out. I quickly pulled out the other credit card, cursed myself, paid and began to trace our steps back to Flapjack Store, which was closed. Then began the long blame game. Those Flapjack people! They took my card and didn't return it. And now they're closed til morning! Or the stupid street sweepers. Why does it have to be so damn tidy in little English villages? They swept my dear debit card away. Or those stupid American tourists. They steal!! With no conscience! Probably voted for Trump too!
And I forgot to buy a Sims card, so I couldn't use my cell phone to call the Flapjacks store or the police because of the robbing tourists or my bank, etc. etc. Why this spiral? Because recently my mum had told me, "Really, Susan, you have to admit: you're not that organized." She is a perfect organizer. She is also retired; previously she was an elementary school teacher, for whom organization is akin to survival amongst her former feral flock of first graders.
Long story short (too late!): After much help from my darling Guest House hostess (calling, playing detective, hunting down clues--she actually kind of seemed to enjoy it); transfers, cancellations, etc., the dear lady discovered (about 4PM the next day), that it was actually in the restaurant all along. Had I bothered to look there? Not at all! I can only chalk it up to two things: one) my mother had gotten into my head and caused me to doubt the magic of the universe; and two) I had a big glass of cider, and yes, I know, as several good Englishmen informed me, cider has alcohol.
So glad that your important folder returned to your filing cabinet from its mystical journeys in the world of not. I fancy my debit card has tales to tell after her night out at the cider-filled restaurant as well! (She was no doubt giggling all along, as I paid with her rival card!).
: ) Also love the turkeys. You are such an iridescent feather yourself! XOXO
Oh Susan! Thank you for that! I am sure that everyone reading your account will have a similar story to tell. It’s in the nature of credit/debit cards to glue themselves to the tops of restaurant tables or (much worse) slip into that black hole that lurks in the seats of taxi cabs and sofa-seats. It’s such a lovely relief to know that I am not alone in wanting, in those first few moments of loss, to turn on myself like a starving sabre-tooth tiger, roaring and snarling.
I left my credit card in a charming little shop five minutes from where I used to live, in Newport, RI. It was late on Saturday evening and by the time I discovered the loss, it was night. All of the above … and then I had the whooooole of Sunday during which to wriggle at the end of my hook of shame/sorrow/fury. When I flew down the road and back to the shop on Monday morning, the lovely owner was smiling at me as I crossed the threshold, saying, “yes, I have it!”
Of course there are those other times when something is gone forever. And we all survive those times too. People who have lost everything in home fires sometimes emerge ebullient and reborn. There’s an important message in there, somewhere. *grin*
Awesome piece Manjula!! glad you found the folder!
Thank you, Mandy! You know, of course, that YOU taught me how to make soft-lino blocks! I’ve just kept going with them!! Thanks forever.
As silly as it sounds, your column almost made me cry--with relief. I, too, have the stages--the denial, grief, the anger at myself (sometimes fury really). In my age, I have (sometimes) learned the wisdom of telling myself: Ah, the universe needs me to find something else (because I often do!) before I'm able to find what I've lost, and I keep looking faithfully until I find the Mysterious Waiting to Be Found thing and then believing I'll find my lost thing.
But recently in the Cotswolds, I lost my debit card. This is a terrible thing to lose while traveling--or any time for that matter, but especially while on the road. I knew exactly where I had used it last (buying a hostess gift at the flapjacks store in the cute little town square of Squat on the Road or Stow on the Wold or Moor on the Inn or Whatever.). Then we'd walked around the corner to a restaurant for one of the best meals I've ever had--for which I could not immediately pay because of aforesaid "loss." I didn't do my usual stages. I just went straight to Freak Out. I quickly pulled out the other credit card, cursed myself, paid and began to trace our steps back to Flapjack Store, which was closed. Then began the long blame game. Those Flapjack people! They took my card and didn't return it. And now they're closed til morning! Or the stupid street sweepers. Why does it have to be so damn tidy in little English villages? They swept my dear debit card away. Or those stupid American tourists. They steal!! With no conscience! Probably voted for Trump too!
And I forgot to buy a Sims card, so I couldn't use my cell phone to call the Flapjacks store or the police because of the robbing tourists or my bank, etc. etc. Why this spiral? Because recently my mum had told me, "Really, Susan, you have to admit: you're not that organized." She is a perfect organizer. She is also retired; previously she was an elementary school teacher, for whom organization is akin to survival amongst her former feral flock of first graders.
Long story short (too late!): After much help from my darling Guest House hostess (calling, playing detective, hunting down clues--she actually kind of seemed to enjoy it); transfers, cancellations, etc., the dear lady discovered (about 4PM the next day), that it was actually in the restaurant all along. Had I bothered to look there? Not at all! I can only chalk it up to two things: one) my mother had gotten into my head and caused me to doubt the magic of the universe; and two) I had a big glass of cider, and yes, I know, as several good Englishmen informed me, cider has alcohol.
So glad that your important folder returned to your filing cabinet from its mystical journeys in the world of not. I fancy my debit card has tales to tell after her night out at the cider-filled restaurant as well! (She was no doubt giggling all along, as I paid with her rival card!).
: ) Also love the turkeys. You are such an iridescent feather yourself! XOXO
Oh Susan! Thank you for that! I am sure that everyone reading your account will have a similar story to tell. It’s in the nature of credit/debit cards to glue themselves to the tops of restaurant tables or (much worse) slip into that black hole that lurks in the seats of taxi cabs and sofa-seats. It’s such a lovely relief to know that I am not alone in wanting, in those first few moments of loss, to turn on myself like a starving sabre-tooth tiger, roaring and snarling.
I left my credit card in a charming little shop five minutes from where I used to live, in Newport, RI. It was late on Saturday evening and by the time I discovered the loss, it was night. All of the above … and then I had the whooooole of Sunday during which to wriggle at the end of my hook of shame/sorrow/fury. When I flew down the road and back to the shop on Monday morning, the lovely owner was smiling at me as I crossed the threshold, saying, “yes, I have it!”
Of course there are those other times when something is gone forever. And we all survive those times too. People who have lost everything in home fires sometimes emerge ebullient and reborn. There’s an important message in there, somewhere. *grin*
Your're welcome🙂Ill send some photos on of our demos during Covid- check yr regular email.
Ithink I am just about ready for the July Show. Phew. Delivering a big pile tomorrow. You can see it online and Facebook live.
But we never got together before you leave- I hooe you are all set for that. And just so you know,
I always miss you and hope you keep connected from so far away.
Safe travels!
xoxoxo