Something is coming, you guys. Something awful is going to happen to me. I know it.
Lately I have been testing fate in a whole lot of ways: A few weeks ago I left my iphone in the cup holder of my car while I took the the kids to the playground. Last month I put my purse down on the floor of a museum and just walked away from it. I lost my license a couple of weeks ago. I lose my sunglasses, wallet, and keys every damn day.
I am an accident waiting to happen.
But in case all of this sounds like normal frazzled mom stuff to you, let me tell you what I did the other day at the dry cleaners.
The gal behind the counter gave me my dry cleaning, and we chatted a little bit about the weather while I swiped my debit card. Then she said, “And your pin?”
I said, “1, 2….”
And then I stopped.
Something inside me said, “Wait a second…I feel like we are about to make a mistake here. Isn’t our pin number supposed to be, like, super secret?”
I stood there for a moment, wrestling with the question of whether or not to share my pin number with the woman who does my dry cleaning. I felt like those four digits were an integral part of these kinds of transactions. Hadn’t I used it in the past? Sure I had! So why did this feel wrong? She seemed trustworthy enough. Besides, I do need to take Mike’s suit home with me. What to do?
Seeing that the transaction had come to an indefinite halt, the dry cleaner pointed at the key pad in front of me and said, ”No no! In the machine!”
Oh yeeeeeeeeah! THAT’S how you do this!
I laughed and said, “Ha! Right! Sorry. I’m a little off today.”
She smiled and said, “That’s ok. Are those your car keys? Can I have your car? AH HA HA HA HA.”
Oh, how we laughed.
PS — Kids? I am really sorry for the inevitable day that I give your inheritance to that guy on the phone who told me he’d water my lawn every week and would pay himself if I gave him my bank account number.
He was so polite. And Mommy hates a dry lawn.