It's interesting how easy it is to not think about things correctly. I don't just mean forgetting stuff; I mean knowing something and not being aware of it, maybe. Knowing it but not thinking about what it actually means. To be slightly more specific*, last week I had a problem of general type M, and I thought of it as if it like I would think of any problem of that very general type, even though the details of this particular problem made the "usual way" downright counterproductive.
Here's what happened. This past week I was having a money problem, as a result of the bad weekend. Thursday I went up to Burlington, like usual. I stopped at the comic book shop and planned to go shopping for a new wallet before going to Drinking Liberally, and on the way home afterwards, stop by the gas station for beer (I was out) and coffee (just so I wouldn't fall asleep at the wheel). I knew all along about the money problem, so I counted the cash in my pocket carefully when paying for my comics, and calculated that I only had enough cash for only one or at most two of the things on my agenda, so I should go by the ATM next. Simple enough. I headed up there, walking a block or so out of my way, and I waited for the guy in front of me to finish up, and then I stepped up to the ATM and put my hand in my pocket and stopped in my tracks because my debit card was not in my pocket, of course, it was last seen in my wallet, and I had LOST MY FUCKING WALLET.
Losing my wallet was a big part of why the weekend of July 6-8 was bad, but not the only part. The week leading up to it was pretty depressing too, but I had forgotten about the wedding until I was reminded just a couple days before. In addition to stuff I had planned for the weekend which I would now have less time to do, I also had to cancel an interview scheduled for Friday. The secretary of the guy was on vacation that week, so I had no easy way to get the message through that I needed to change or cancel it.
He called me eventually and seemed understanding enough, but that was one more thing to take care of on Friday morning. After rushing through writing my stories on Friday, I rushed through packing in time for my parents to pick me up, and spent roughly the next six hours in my parents' van as we drove to Maine, where the wedding would be. After we finally got there, most of my mom's branch of the family was sharing a hotel, so Friday evening we got to hang out with familiar faces and stuff. Seeing the cousins was fun, yes. I was amused that Anne was asked to read a list of "dorky" quotes, from people like Mal Reynolds and Mikey in "The Goonies." The C.S. Lewis quote used in the title of this felt especially appropriate and bittersweet for me.
However, that night didn't go well. My aunt (my mom's cousin's wife, technically) has taken Tae Kwon Do, or maybe is still taking it now, I don't remember. I studied Tae Kwon Do myself, and when someone mentioned it, we jokingly went into fighting stances and threw a few punches and kicks. It ended abruptly when she punched me in the nose. I spent the next hour or so wiping blood off my face and holding ice in a washcloth around my nose. It started to swell, but the ice did the trick; it was not visible by the following morning. The incident sure didn't help my mood, though.
Saturday, the day of the wedding, was fun enough. Our branch of the family took over a tiny diner for breakfast, the next generation got to run around the beach collecting weird rocks, etc. The wedding itself was short and sweet, and on top of a mountain. The reception afterwards went well too, for a while. Good food, open bar, new and interesting people to talk to. Unfortunately, I took too much advantage of the open bar. Way too much. I'm impressed by the cleanup efforts that my family went through, but hated myself for putting them in that position.
Sunday, I couldn't find my wallet. I kept saying that someone at the wedding must have stolen it, which my parents insist was needlessly negative and it just fell out of my pocket at some point after I got hammered, but then, I was obviously not in a cheerful frame of mind. Sunday evening after we got back and Monday I made the calls to cancel my credit and debit cards. No charges had been made to them, luckily.
This past Thursday or Friday, I got the new credit card in the mail, earlier than expected. Lucky me. Still waiting to be replaced: my debit card, which I ordered and just hasn't arrived yet, and my driver's license, which I didn't get around to last week. Probably irreplacable: an old driver's license which I kept around as a conversation piece to show people what I looked like with longer hair and a beard, and my black belt certificate wallet card. Not that I need either of those — to be unrealistically self-critical, I'm so out of practice I don't deserve the black belt certificate, but also, I will probably want to start a different style anew if I ever go back to martial arts at all — but I'll miss having them and it's annoying losing them.
So: a rushed couple days getting ready for a wedding at which I got punched in the nose, had too much to drink and got sick, and lost my wallet. I have another wedding coming up in a couple weeks, for a cousin of the same branch of the family, and I reserve the right to be at least a little grouchy.
* Yes, only slightly more specific, I admit it'll take me about another hundred words to get to the point — mea culpa. But that's because I wanted the revelation of what actually happened last weekend to be dramatic; give me a break here, let me have a little fun!