Has anyone seen my wallet?
This is a question that, when asked by me, drives Mrs ED absolutely mad. But it's unavoidable I'm afraid, and really not my fault at all.
The truth is I have a trollop of a wallet. Honestly! It is a wallet with no sense of reasonable discipline, that sleeps around whenever it has the opportunity, never tells me where it's going or where it's been, or, worse still, who it has been with, only returning when it's tired out and simply wants to relax and recuperate somewhere safe.
The prodigal wallet.
You see I learnt long ago from my father that there are three sorts of men. Those who have their wallets stolen, those who lose them, and those especially chosen people (like he and I) who just temporarily part ways with their wallets, but always get them back.
Admittedly we sometimes have to wait for them to return (my record is a year), and it can get frustrating at times, but they always do come back.
Often folks will overhear me muttering that my wallet is gone I-have-no-idea-where, and they immediately launch into a barrage of urgent advice.
“Cancel your cards!”
“Call the police!”
“Go directly to the bank!”
“Ask the barman to put it on your tab!”
This, of course, provides a confusing contrast to my own reaction….
“No it's not lost, or stolen… it's just missing. It's gone, but only temporarily. It will come back. It always does.”
And it does too!
My lack of panic at being walletless may probably have something to do with another characteristic I have. For the most part I don't carry any money. No cash at all. Why? Well I just don't have any. I have direct debits which vacuum the money out of my bank account before I can “Move Forward’ sideways, or any other way, including towards a pub.
Also - cash means shopping. Shopping means… well, being in shops I suppose. Something which I don't normally like to do. Mrs Ed and my daughter (The Money Consuming Machine) like shopping, which would also explain why I have no desire to rush out and cancel the bank cards the minute my wallet goes AWOL… because I know they are already empty.
Honestly- if someone WERE to steal my cards, I'm sure they would give them straight back - who wants to risk going to jail for R8.27?
As I mentioned, my father had the same relationship with his wallets….
I remember years ago on a family trip to Mauritius (in the good ol' early 80's when you could pay for your accommodation by peddling smuggled-in whisky to the various pubs and taverns) we decided to take a day trip to the market at Port Louis and climbed aboard an extremely-packed and even-more-extremely-dodgy public bus.
An hour or so later we disembarked from the mobile deathtrap at our stop, and after waving farewell to the goats on the roof as the science-defying machine rumbled off, we turned to head into the market.
Suddenly we heard a screech of brakes as the bus shuddered to a halt once again, only a short way up the road. To my father's abject horror a man climbed off and shouted at us in a rather officious manner.
Presuming he was from customs and excise (Illicit Alcohol Trafficking Division) my father dragged us down an alley.
“Quick! Hide the whisky” he hissed, rapidly removing two quarts of Chivas Regal from his kit bag and tucking one down each trouser leg.
But it was too late. The man had hot-footed after us and as he turned into the alley it was obvious he was brandishing something black and deadly in one hand.
“Stop sir, STOP!” he yelled, in a wait-till-I-get-you-in-jail-and-my-Chief-Constable-strip-searches-you sort of voice.
“Don't shoot me! It was my wife's idea!” my father shouted bravely, instinctively thrusting both hands into the air then wincing as each bottle of Chivas slid down its respective leg and clunked heavily onto the ground. I couldn't help watching as an expensive pool of five-year old blend formed under his left foot.
The chaser must have been a little put off too, as he was still a few feet away from us (Mauritius hadn't metricated yet) when he stopped, put his weapon down on the floor, and ran off.
Indeed if the truth be told, it wasn't actually a weapon, it was my father's travelling wallet (I will NOT say 'Man-Bag' when the poor man is not here to defend himself) - a zipping leather pouch thing which, fortunately for us, STILL contained all of our passports, all of our money, all of our air tickets and the key to the holiday flat we were staying in.
Of course my mother (Mrs Ed senior) reprimanded dad severely for leaving it on the bus, but he claimed, quite understandably, that he hadn't. He believed the thing had somehow worked its own way out of the kit bag and had been merrily making its way elsewhere (probably to some leather shop of ill-repute) when the exceptionally honest gentleman had found it.
At first I too doubted his argument, but in time I have learnt that he was most probably telling the truth.
You see my wallet also just disappears, often, of its own accord. Nothing to do with me of course. I always keep it in a safe place. Obviously. I would be foolish not to, wouldn't I? Despite what Mrs Ed says on facebook, I do have a brain on my shoulders.
But having said that, I'm delighted to say that at last Mrs Ed is actually coming around to my way of thinking. For years she has been poo-pooing the very idea of my 'wandering wallet' theory… until recently.
“Has anyone seen my wallet?”
“Again? You're kidding!”
“No, I can't find it, I put it in the fruit bowl yesterday but…”
“Oh my goodness! You are like a child! How can you lose a wallet so many times? Have you looked in the car?”
“Yes”
“And was it there?”
“No!”
“And on top of the fridge? Have you checked on top of the fridge?”
“Yes.”
“And was it there?”
“NO!”
“Well where is it then? What have you done with it?”“I haven't done anything. It just seems to have disappea…”
“LET'S GET THIS STRAIGHT. A WALLET DOESN'T JUST MOVE OF ITS OWN ACCORD. IT HAS NO LEGS OR WINGS OR WHEELS. IT IS AN OBJECT. IT WOULD ONLY MOVE SOMEWHERE IF THERE WAS AN EARTHQUAKE, A TIDAL WAVE, ORYOU MOVED IT!”
“Well maybe someone else…”
“OH I GET IT. SOMEONE WALKED IN FROM THE STREET AND TOOK YOUR WALLET OUT THE FRUIT BOWL AND WENT OFF WITH IT? SOMEONE IGNORED THE TV, THE LAPTOP, THE CELLPHONES AND MY HANDBAG HERE, AND JUST PICKED UP YOUR…… oh! …. Hmmmm now that's odd,”
“What's odd?”
“Your wallet… it appears to be in my handbag…”
“Oh brilliant! I knew it would come back eventually,”
“I really don't know how it got there. Someone must have put ……”
“ No, It probably relocated itself. Like it always does. Er... just check if the er... money is still in there.... No? perhaps it fell into your handbag.... it was about R500 or maybe R200 .. actually I’ll accept any money you’ve got...
.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Friday, February 8, 2013
Fridge Magnets
.
Ok, so it's the end of January. Usually by this time I am sitting in a pool of depression, pondering how I have already managed to break all of my new year's resolutions within the first month.
However I am glad to say that this year is different.
This year have been far more efficient about the whole thing, and have managed to break all except two of my resolutions by the 10th of January!
One of the two I kept, of course, was 'No more procrastination' . With this I believe I have done quite well, considering how straight to the point I've been with regards to breaking the others.
Instead of thinking of having a (social) cigarette, and delaying the whole issue, I became a newly decisive person and actioned my thoughts without hesitation. As I did with white bread, tv watching, beer consumption, and all the other things I had foolishly written on my 'to give up' list for 2013.
Written? Yes - I'm afraid my 2013 Resolutions have been written down, brightly recorded in purple crayon and displayed in the public domain. That is if the public should choose to step into our kitchen (I continue to invite the Top Billing tv crew on a regular basis, but have had no response as yet perhaps I should have got Mrs Ed to wash the dishes before taking the pictures)
“But where?” I hear you ask (have you nothing better to do with your time?) “Where in one's kitchen would one display such documented evidence of the promises one has made for the year?” (My! You DO sound posh!)
Why, isn't it obvious?
The fridge of course!
No, not IN the fridge, ON the fridge.
Which leads me to the OTHER resolution I intend to keep. Let me explain. Like all slightly demented and generally chaotic households, we have a veritable plague of fridge magnets of all shapes and sizes adorning the double-door of our beer-chilling and food fermenting Frigidaire, so this is where we end up hanging all our important notices:- family memos, shopping lists, court orders, kid's coloured-in creations, appointment reminders, lists of duties, anonymous threats, signed threats, school reports, family photographs, recipes, pill reminders, diets, things to do lists, things NOT to do lists, library fines, traffic fines, restraining orders, arrest warrants, final demands and, of course, new year's resolutions.
Indeed in our home, it seems the fridge door is our entire archive system for anything that is on paper.
And this is made worse because apparently, sometime, back in the long-forgotten medieval ages, an official decree from the King's pen was issued : “That noone should, henceforth, be permitted to removeth a single piece of parchment from under a fridge magnet(eth) lest he be puni-shed by painful death(eth).”
Honestly. There's stuff up there that defies logic on both extremes..
“What's this?” I'll exclaim, rifling through the papers on a quest to find the freezer door handle.
“Oh it's a cute picture of a sunflower that David did when he was four,” chuckles Mrs Ed, “You see that brown smudge? That was meant to be a caterpillar, but it looks a bit more like a hippo to me…. And the…...”
“Who is David?” I interrupt. Logically I thought.
“Don't you remember? He's the little boy who sat next to your son in class for a week in 1998. I think he's studying medicine or something now, though I'm not sure, his family left in early1999.”
“And this underneath it…. It looks like a shopping list. Why on earth are we keeping an old shopping list written on…. Hang on! This is our marriage certificate! WHO WROTE A SHOPPING LIST ON OUR MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE?”
“Oh at least it's had some sort of use,” she replies….
Yes. Our poor fridge door groans under the weight of paper and magnet, so much so that often I have to put dozens of full bottles inside to balance it out and prevent it toppling over when it's open.
On the plus side, it is actually quite handy to have the history of our new year resolutions on full display, because Mrs Ed and I get to use them in battle.
Really. There's no better ammunition than someone's resolutions when you are locked head-to-head in verbal combat.
“Didn't you say you planned to be a better housekeeper this year, and make sure there's always something in the fridge?” I'll throw at her, staring at the empty shelves.
“Yes! On the same day you vowed to drink less beer!” she hurls back, pointing at the stack of recently emptied empties.
“I wouldn't have to knock them back so quickly if you had stuck to your plan to learn how to cook properly in 2005!” I parry.
“ Well… (hang on I can't see, Love, can you move to the left a bit please? Thanks.) well I would have done so if you had kept your promise to make 2007 'The Year of the Productive Veggie Patch' wouldn't I?” …..and so it goes on.
But I believe there are more negative than positive sides to a paper-coated fridge door. For example, I live in fear of what criminal evidence might be discovered there at an in-opportune moment.
What if the CSI team were called in to investigate the mysterious appearance of a dead body on our kitchen floor (with Mrs Ed's cooking this is quite possible)? Who knows what they might find once they started sifting through the paperwork under our fridge magnets!
And I'm not talking about the class photo of my son (The REE) age 5, (14 years prior to any tattoos and piercings, when he still wore his pants OVER his backside, and believed up to 60% of whatever his dad told him). I'm talking about real incriminating stuff.
“Hang on detective, I see they have the operating instructions for the Whizzofrothstick (makes a cappuccino a minute!) allegedly purchased, over-whizzed and chucked out - all on 15 August 2006. Could this be the murder weapon?”
“Bag it Danno, and check it for prints, along with this 12 year old invoice for dog shampoo I've managed to slide out from under magnet 17. It is crumbling already, but you may get some partials…”
“My goodness sir! Don't move another inch! Your tweezers almost tore that recipe for Liver and Brinjal Pie - I think we’ve found our motive!”
So yes. My only other resolution for 2013 worthy of keeping is this. I am going to buy a new fridge, and though I will probably have to hunt high and low, far and wide, there is going to be one unique quality this new fridge will have that will rid my home of all this collected chaos.
My new fridge will sport a wooden door.
.
Ok, so it's the end of January. Usually by this time I am sitting in a pool of depression, pondering how I have already managed to break all of my new year's resolutions within the first month.
However I am glad to say that this year is different.
This year have been far more efficient about the whole thing, and have managed to break all except two of my resolutions by the 10th of January!
One of the two I kept, of course, was 'No more procrastination' . With this I believe I have done quite well, considering how straight to the point I've been with regards to breaking the others.
Instead of thinking of having a (social) cigarette, and delaying the whole issue, I became a newly decisive person and actioned my thoughts without hesitation. As I did with white bread, tv watching, beer consumption, and all the other things I had foolishly written on my 'to give up' list for 2013.
Written? Yes - I'm afraid my 2013 Resolutions have been written down, brightly recorded in purple crayon and displayed in the public domain. That is if the public should choose to step into our kitchen (I continue to invite the Top Billing tv crew on a regular basis, but have had no response as yet perhaps I should have got Mrs Ed to wash the dishes before taking the pictures)
“But where?” I hear you ask (have you nothing better to do with your time?) “Where in one's kitchen would one display such documented evidence of the promises one has made for the year?” (My! You DO sound posh!)
Why, isn't it obvious?
The fridge of course!
No, not IN the fridge, ON the fridge.
Which leads me to the OTHER resolution I intend to keep. Let me explain. Like all slightly demented and generally chaotic households, we have a veritable plague of fridge magnets of all shapes and sizes adorning the double-door of our beer-chilling and food fermenting Frigidaire, so this is where we end up hanging all our important notices:- family memos, shopping lists, court orders, kid's coloured-in creations, appointment reminders, lists of duties, anonymous threats, signed threats, school reports, family photographs, recipes, pill reminders, diets, things to do lists, things NOT to do lists, library fines, traffic fines, restraining orders, arrest warrants, final demands and, of course, new year's resolutions.
Indeed in our home, it seems the fridge door is our entire archive system for anything that is on paper.
And this is made worse because apparently, sometime, back in the long-forgotten medieval ages, an official decree from the King's pen was issued : “That noone should, henceforth, be permitted to removeth a single piece of parchment from under a fridge magnet(eth) lest he be puni-shed by painful death(eth).”
Honestly. There's stuff up there that defies logic on both extremes..
“What's this?” I'll exclaim, rifling through the papers on a quest to find the freezer door handle.
“Oh it's a cute picture of a sunflower that David did when he was four,” chuckles Mrs Ed, “You see that brown smudge? That was meant to be a caterpillar, but it looks a bit more like a hippo to me…. And the…...”
“Who is David?” I interrupt. Logically I thought.
“Don't you remember? He's the little boy who sat next to your son in class for a week in 1998. I think he's studying medicine or something now, though I'm not sure, his family left in early1999.”
“And this underneath it…. It looks like a shopping list. Why on earth are we keeping an old shopping list written on…. Hang on! This is our marriage certificate! WHO WROTE A SHOPPING LIST ON OUR MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE?”
“Oh at least it's had some sort of use,” she replies….
Yes. Our poor fridge door groans under the weight of paper and magnet, so much so that often I have to put dozens of full bottles inside to balance it out and prevent it toppling over when it's open.
On the plus side, it is actually quite handy to have the history of our new year resolutions on full display, because Mrs Ed and I get to use them in battle.
Really. There's no better ammunition than someone's resolutions when you are locked head-to-head in verbal combat.
“Didn't you say you planned to be a better housekeeper this year, and make sure there's always something in the fridge?” I'll throw at her, staring at the empty shelves.
“Yes! On the same day you vowed to drink less beer!” she hurls back, pointing at the stack of recently emptied empties.
“I wouldn't have to knock them back so quickly if you had stuck to your plan to learn how to cook properly in 2005!” I parry.
“ Well… (hang on I can't see, Love, can you move to the left a bit please? Thanks.) well I would have done so if you had kept your promise to make 2007 'The Year of the Productive Veggie Patch' wouldn't I?” …..and so it goes on.
But I believe there are more negative than positive sides to a paper-coated fridge door. For example, I live in fear of what criminal evidence might be discovered there at an in-opportune moment.
What if the CSI team were called in to investigate the mysterious appearance of a dead body on our kitchen floor (with Mrs Ed's cooking this is quite possible)? Who knows what they might find once they started sifting through the paperwork under our fridge magnets!
And I'm not talking about the class photo of my son (The REE) age 5, (14 years prior to any tattoos and piercings, when he still wore his pants OVER his backside, and believed up to 60% of whatever his dad told him). I'm talking about real incriminating stuff.
“Hang on detective, I see they have the operating instructions for the Whizzofrothstick (makes a cappuccino a minute!) allegedly purchased, over-whizzed and chucked out - all on 15 August 2006. Could this be the murder weapon?”
“Bag it Danno, and check it for prints, along with this 12 year old invoice for dog shampoo I've managed to slide out from under magnet 17. It is crumbling already, but you may get some partials…”
“My goodness sir! Don't move another inch! Your tweezers almost tore that recipe for Liver and Brinjal Pie - I think we’ve found our motive!”
So yes. My only other resolution for 2013 worthy of keeping is this. I am going to buy a new fridge, and though I will probably have to hunt high and low, far and wide, there is going to be one unique quality this new fridge will have that will rid my home of all this collected chaos.
My new fridge will sport a wooden door.
.
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