Where's me wallet?

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...
.