I am not good at holding onto my things, particularly my wallet. If you know me, you know this. Some of you who are kind say it is part of my charm, but it’s not. It’s straight up annoying. I know this. I’m sorry for everyone close to me that has to deal with the stress this causes on a semi-constant basis. I’m also sorry to say, I will remain sorry because it doesn’t seem like I am going to change any time soon.
The problem is, there is something very strange that happens every time I lose my wallet. It has prevented me from ever learning my lesson, turning me lackadaisical, reckless even, about holding close my material possessions. This thing has only gotten worse and more remarkable over the last several years.
Here is the thing: every time I have sent my wallet or its contents accidentally into the universe— and I mean every single time—the universe has sent it right back.
Here is an overview of the past 6 years:
2006, I capsized a boat (this is a famous story). Purse went out to sea. 2 weeks later, it showed up on a hotel beach with everything inside. I still have the purse.
2007, I lost my wallet at a bar. I thought it fell. The friend with me thought (assumed) the man next to us had stolen it. Outside, my friend pointed the man out to a cop. The cop searched him on the spot. My wallet was in his shoe. After a trip to the sketchy underground police station and a couple of hours, I got it back, plus my phone, which was in his pocket, plus some extra cash that wasn’t mine.
Also 2007, I lost my ID at a bar. The next day, the bartender said it wasn’t there. I walked in anyway. It was laying face up in the middle of the floor.
2008, I lost my wallet somewhere on the NYC subway. One week later it showed up at my parents house in Boston via the US mail.
2009, I left my purse at a bar. Some kind citizen picked it up, took my phone and called the last number in it, which happened to be the guy sitting next to me. We stopped and picked it up at the citizen’s apertment the way home.
2010, in South Africa a group of men broke in and robbed the house I was staying in with my co-workers. They took all of our computers and everyone’s wallet—except mine.
2011, I dropped my ID somewhere on a long walk home from a bar on Nantucket. Got a facebook message from a cab driver a day later and picked it up at my favorite sandwich shop along with my favorite sandwich.
2012, lost my wallet in a similar fashion as above. Got a facebook message a day later. Picked it up from the police station, where it was kept in a locked room. All 3 dollars, recovered.
AND finally, this past Friday, while biking from my brother’s apartment in Williamsburg to my new place in Greenpoint to move in, my backpack broke open and out fell my purse containing EVERYTHING. (Besides getting hurt or mugged or dying, this is the worst thing that could happen on move-in day). I called the cops, got yelled at, and was getting ready to swear off my new neighborhood entirely until today when I received a tumblr message from Michelle, who had saved it (minus my phone) and has it safely in her apartment. Turns out, she and her boyfriend have been trying to contact me for days.
Be it karma. Be it the average stranger is kinder than we imagine. Be it I am a lucky sun of a bitch. Be it I just jinxed myself. I don’t care. I’m buying a lottery ticket and leaving my winnings to whoever finds my shit next. It’s time to send something back.
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