"Hello." A familiar voice came racing through the phone exclaiming, "I need you to look for my billfold." "You did look in your purse ten times? Have you looked in all of your pockets and in your car?" "Yes."
I looked in all of the obvious house places. For years she just randomly placed her purse wherever the mood struck her and she was always looking for it. "Have you seen my purse?" I always respond, "Yes." "Where is it?" "You mean right now, I don't know." "You said you had seen it!" "I have seen it many times because you carry it everywhere you go even to bed sometimes." "Oh, at times you are so exasperating." At least she said at times. Now she puts in the same place -- mostly -- on an old milk can used by farmers in the long ago. TW our oldest painted a beautiful scene on it years ago and it is one of our treasures.
I checked everywhere -- no success. She moaned, "I am at GoodWill looking at their books." She continued, "I got to the cash register with six books and couldn't find my billfold. My purse was riding in the shopping cart and it is obvious that someone reached in and took it." The zipper is frequently not closed and it gaps wider than our immigration laws and tax loopholes for the wealthy. She like 98 percent of American women carries one of those huge, brobdingnagian shoulder purses that zips across the top. My navy seabag was smaller and it held several pairs of blue as well as white uniforms, a peacoat, two pair of shoes, skivvies and T-shirts, several hats, three pairs of dungaree shirts and pants, a spit kit and numerous other items. I lifted her purse one time and got a herniated disk.
"What do I do now?" she wailed. "Go to the bank, cancel your credit and debit cards and put a hold on our checking account." To her vehicle she sprang with a whistle and away she flew like the down of a thistle. [Clement Moore]
Dejectedly she came home where I awaited with tea and sympathy. "Where could it be? Someone must have slipped up behind me and lifted it while I was looking at the books. Who would do such a dastardly thing?"
The door banged as she went to the garage. In a few minutes she returned gliding on a surfboard of delight. "I found it," she gleefully announced while holding it high like a Powerball winner. "Wowsydoodle," I exclaimed. Relief poured out of every pore in her personage like sweat on an NFL lineman. "I begin to think, when did I have it the last time. Then it came crashing through my pumpkin that last night when we were coming home I offered to buy treats at the DQ. I paid and thought I put the billfold back in my purse. It was on the floor on my side of your car. Let's go to the DQ and celebrate." That girl could eat ice cream 24/7.
Larry Vandeventer. Go to my website -- Larryvandeventer.com -- and purchase my books. I grew up North of Calvertville and Graduated from Worthington High School and Indiana State 4 Times. Contact me at Goosecrick@aol.com or 317-839-7656.