I found my lost ATM card, which had kept me worried for the last 36 hours. You know, the I-don’t-care-I’ll-eventually-find-it kind of worried, not the expected omg-how-in-hell-am-I going-to-feed-myself-for-the-next-two-days kind of worried.
Which, I realized, had been my attitude when I first found out that my mobile phone was missing. Because I thought I just mistook my laptop bag for my shoulder bag and placed the phone there instead. Or because I thought that people are generally as good as me, who will return found items without as much as a second thought. (Or maybe I have yet to stumble upon a bag containing millions, for me to really say that about myself.)
Which then made me realize that I really should have been worrying and panicking already, given my propensity for losing things not biologically attached to my body. Plus the fact that, if my ATM card had indeed been lost, it will be the fourth time that I’d be applying for a card replacement (for the same account). Which will be humiliating, I am sure.
So, upon waking up late this morning, I made my decision to start looking for it. Wallet (for the seventh time)? None. Bag (for the second time today)? None. My bed? Under my bed? Jeans? Blazers? Laundry basket? None.
That eventually made up my mind to “work” on a Saturday. And yes, after a few minutes of looking under my table, in between documents and trash, I found my lost ATM. Which justifies my planned trip to the mall later. To reward myself.
And of course, I really am working on some documents for archiving. Just like what I told my boss when I informed him that I am working overtime today.
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