So I told you about losing my Scooty keys and also about “almost” losing my wallet? Ok, here’s the full story.
One night last week, we had gone (on the new bike) to the nearby bus ticket booking counter to get tickets for our forthcoming (last week, it was forthcoming) trip to mangalore. We had – in our assorted wallets – all the cash we currently could muster. The ATM (Syndicate Bank) in front of our house was, as usual, refusing to dispense notes.
So with our meagre Rs 1500 we went, hoping to get two tickets to mangalore and back. When we got there (and parked, without too much hassle) we seated ourselves in the office and set about getting tickets. Then came the time to pay, and I found the zipper compartment of my handbag open! Ohmygod!!! Desperately, I groped around in its spacious interiors, which were even more spacious because they were empty. Luckily, my house key was still there, but my wallet wasn’t.
I panicked. I would have left the tickets, but Amit, ever the level-headed, practical one, somehow scraped together enough 100-rupee notes to pay up. We walked out and Amit walked back looking for the wallet along the way, while I scurried back home hoping against hope (whatever that means) that I had left it around somewhere. Somewhere, most likely, would be on the dining table or on the bed.
Well, I got the bike home in one piece, but I was so distracted with this wallet issue, that instead of parking it, I just sort of gracefully let it fall to one side and lie there, while I rushed upstairs to look for the blessed wallet. I didn’t even pause to take the keys out of the bike, just left it, all Rs 60,000 worth of it, without a second thought. (The wallet had all of Rs 500 in it.)
Really I don’t know why I panicked like that, but I just did. I think I really found it so unbelievable that I should do something like that. Me, the ever-organized, careful, blah, blah, blah… (Chris, you want to re-think your opinion of me a little.)
Anyway, a quick look around showed that there was no wallet to be seen in the house, so I went back down to look around the area the bike had been parked before we went out. I hadn’t, of course, had the foresight to take a torch with me, so I doubt I would have seen it, even had it been there.
At once I called Amit with the bad news. He hadn’t had any luck either, and – worse – he was almost home. Call the credit card company and tell them to cancel the card, before someone uses it, he told me calmly. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that. Credit card company. Now. Which credit card did I have? What number should I call? What was my card number? Where was that file where I kept all this information? I rushed around blindly, pausing briefly to put the bike in the vertical and achieving altogether nothing.
Before I could get very far – that is, I had managed to call the credit card company, but not yet succeeded in getting the card cancelled – I found the blasted wallet. I had kept it carefully away in the drawer, where we keep another disused wallet. Suddenly I could breathe again.
It was only two or three days later, that I lost the Scooty key. I was in Church Street, getting a number of errands done and trying to finish them all in time to make it to the nearest facility for a meeting I had to attend (virtual meeting, that is). It was raining and I had my hands full of things, apart from helmet, raincoat and umbrella.
Raincoat and umbrella, see. One for me and one for the laptop that I was carrying. You can’t use an umbrella while driving a scooty, you see.
Well, anyway, somewhere on the way, I dropped it, I presume. At least I didn’t panic. This time I was cool, calm, and collected. I would walk to office and still make it in time for the meeting (this facility is just off MG Road, not too far from where I was. Driving would likely take longer due to rain, traffic, and one-ways). (Don’t look at the punctuation of the previous sentence too closely, please.)
I made it in time for my meeting, albeit looking like something the cat dragged in. Then I called Amit and he came and rescued me, bringing the spare copy of the scooty key which lies in the car. Why? That’s because the Scooty is usually employed as a “No Parking” sign to block the parking space which the car usually occupies. Get it? No? Ok, forget it.
So, as I said earlier, OLD AGE IS HERE!
But you know what takes the cake? And this is the point all this is leading up to (if you managed to stay with me this far). This morning, when I dragged myself out of bed, Amit had left for tennis. Which was fine, except that the two tennis rackets were still lying on the table (where he keeps them the night before, in readiness for the early morning start). I glanced at them and thought, hmmm, that’s strange. I guess his coach wanted him to try out some other racket. He couldn’t have forgotten them here, surely. Surely he would never do something like that.
But guess what – he had forgotten them.