I went to yoga last night. This in itself is completely unremarkable, but I typically put my wallet into my yoga bag, then put it back in my purse once I get home. Except I didn’t follow my normal procedures last night and forgot all about it.

This morning I went to my doctor’s office for a vitamin B injection, then stopped at the lab to get blood drawn. That was where I discovered my missing wallet, when I went to pull out my insurance card. At the time it was not a big issue; it was at home, in my yoga bag. But no fear – I was going home to work anyway and would retrieve it at that time.

Except I got stopped a few blocks from my house. No wallet, no drivers license, stupid tax (aka ticket) about to ensue. The officer was decent about it, and did not write me a ticket. I had put my registration into the glove compartment without affixing the sticker to my license plate, so I was actually not in violation of that. Driving without my license, though, was a no-no. He kindly told me to go home and get it before operating my vehicle further. I promised and continued on my way.

Once home, first thing I did was check my yoga bag, and my wallet was not there. Freak-out build-up began to build. I looked on the table, on the nightstand, on my desk, in the gun safe, then called M on his run and asked if he taken it from my yoga bag and put it somewhere. No, of course not.

Had someone had stolen it? Since there were only four students plus the teacher in the studio last night, I could not imagine any of them taking it. Perhaps it had fallen out in the parking lot? Or maybe in my car?

I looked in every possible nook and cranny in my vehicle in search of it. No wallet. Freak-out is past the build-up stage and progressing into panic meltdown. My mind was racing thinking of all the crap I have in there that will need to be cancelled and replaced. I carry very little cash, but there was some money in there. How much, I have no idea. But plenty of plastic that must be cancelled and replaced.

It finally occurred to me to call the studio, to see if they had found it. There was a class in session so I went to voice mail. I paced around my office and tried to not burst into tears. I wondered if I should call the bank now or when I was sure it was actually lost. How can I be sure it was not actually lost? Round and round and round my thoughts went, my obsessing getting me worked up into a very bad state.

M returns from his run, all hot and sweaty and gross, and what does he have in his hand but a little red leather wallet. He’s STOLEN it! And he SAID he hadn’t seen it! He’s trying to gaslight me! DIVORCE is so happening now!

Yes, I was most definitely freaking out by that time.

M had come in through the side garage door, but left this morning through the front door to unlock the gate for the pest control people. As he came in he saw my wallet lying in plain sight on the garage floor. While jostling my bag and water bottles and keys last night I must have tipped the bag so the wallet fell out and onto the floor. The garage was still dark when I left this morning and I would have likely not noticed it anyway. Since M did not go out through the garage when he went to run, he had no idea it was there. I left the Rav out front when I got home, intending to run errands after collecting my wallet, and I had no reason to go into the garage in my freaked-out state.

All is well. M is still M, not some kleptomaniac stealing things from me or trying to convince me I am losing my mind. Moral of the story? Place wallet and phone into the compartment and zip it closed.

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