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Quit Playin’ Games With My Heart

January 23, 2012

Iron-y is hard to chew and the universe tried to trick me.

Two days before January 1st, I woke up completely on the wrong side of the bed. Sick again with an annoying phlegm producing cough, an inch of bath water all over the floor, soaking wet hair, and only 20 minutes to get ready for work, I was in no mood. for. anything.

But I felt guilty as I walked out the door. I had no real reason to be mad, grumpy. So, I decided to just be happy. As my Dad always says, happiness is a choice. (And what an obvious choice it is.)

I suddenly enjoyed the morning walk to the train. I loved my brand new boots that I was wearing for the first time. The rain might as well have been sun. I got a special Starbucks coffee when I got to work. Cheerfully enjoyed doing my job. Wrote my husband a couple funny and loving emails. It was a great day.

Around 12:30 my co-worker came to relieve me from the phones and we had a conversation about how she couldn’t find her debit card and was hoping that it was just at home. I commiserated with her and empathized with the anxiety. I also told her how my phone was once left in a cab and how the driver returned the phone the next day.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “There really are good people in the world.” And I believed it with all of my heart.

I left the office and happily splashed my way outside to the nearest Pot Belly’s. I got my Wreck sandwich and Salt’nVinegar chips. Laughed with the cashier as I paid. Snuggled into a table by the door. Remembered happily how much I loved my boots. Throughly enjoyed my food.

(Okay, the ironic part is coming…)

When I sat down and put my purse on the table, I thought that it was not a safe place for it. Someone could just snatch it and flee out the door… So, I hung it on the back of my chair, tucked it safely between the wall and the seat, with the zipper towards me, and covered it with my coat. And, as I ate, I continually touched my bag to make sure it was there.

(I would like to point out, you’re already thinking it, wow, this girl is a bit totally paranoid and anal…)

But…When I got up to go, I put my coat on, grabbed my purse—and realized that the purse was OPEN—–and my grey wallet——was GONE.

GONE. Abbracadabra —–GONE.

I felt dizzy. I tried to think if I put it somewhere, dropped it, left it by the fountain pop machine. But, I didn’t.

SOMEONE STOLE MY WALLET

Right from under my nose.

Well, it could’ve been worse, I told people later. I only had my driver’s license, health insurance ID card, and a debit card, which I immediately cancelled. I wasn’t held up with a gun or jumped in an alley (Thank God).

I called the Chicago non-emergency police line and reported the incident–and I swear the officer laughed at me, but in the end I wished him a happy new year.

I think the worst part was how confused I felt, like the universe tricked me, or was attempting to teach me a lesson for believing in good people, or smiting me for trying to be happy.

Or…maybe it was a test to see how I reacted. The universe really wanted to know: do I really believe there are good people out there???

Hmmm.

Yes. Yes there are!!!!!!!

(Hopefully these sentiments remain true should I end up with a mysterious medical bill in my mailbox for a lobotomy I never received.)

My only faith that was left shaken was my faith in Pot Belly’s. I don’t think I can ever eat there again due to my PTSW–Post Traumatic Stolen Wallet disorder. Sorry PB!

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