I hate that I missed a lot last week. I wanted to blog, I took plenty of pictures…but I felt like such a wreck. I was having a bad case of the blues anyway. Nothing a trip to the state fair can’t cure, right? I mean, crappy food, animals, monkeys riding dogs??? We had so much fun, walking around, people watching, and riding the creepy carnie rides (seriously—have you ever watched those things? One loose screw and I’m afraid that tilt-a-whirl is coming down). And I even treated myself:
An elephant ear! Fried dough covered in sugar and cinnamon. No worries—I shared.
All was going well, until we were headed home and I decided to stop by the store to buy some cat food. I reached into my purse to get my wallet, and…my hand came up empty. I looked around the floor of the car, in the seat…nothing. It was gone.
I have never in my life had a purse or wallet stolen. There was only one time at the fair that my purse wasn’t right by me. We were riding this crazy ride, and I was super hesitant to leave it. But I did, and I kept my eye on it the whole time. I even had the foresight to stuff my iPod in my pocket in case someone were to steal my purse. I think someone slipped their hand in and made off with my sweet little red crocodile wallet. I loved that thing.
It’s probably the worst thing that has happened to me. At least in a while. I had everything in there. And I mean everything. I’ve had to cancel cards, get new ones, call places, struggle without a debit card. What really sucked was when I tried to get my license.
I called work and told them I’d be a little late and went to the courthouse. I stood in line for about an hour to find out at the counter that I didn’t have any of the things I needed to get a license. Granted, I really should have called to find out what I should do, but I just kept thinking, “This happens all the time! Surely they know what to do.”
She asked did I have a social security card. I responded that it was in my wallet (dumb, I know) and that I couldn’t get a new one without my birth certificate (which turned out to be wrong) and…my license. She asked did I have another form of photo ID. No, m’am, my wallet was stolen and everything was in there. “Do you have a marriage license?” she asked. Uh, no, and thanks for rubbing it in.
I left clutching a list bearing the things I needed to prove myself and a slightly less optimistic demeanor. I headed home to my apartment where I had my most recent W-2s (on the list) and called work to let them know I’d be a little later than anticipated. I arrived home only to realize that, under further review, my W-2s would not suffice since they were not the originals (my father does my taxes and he has them in his possession).
I had lunch and did the only thing left to do—I called my mother. I decided that I would come home (an hour away), get some cash out (my mom works at my bank), and get my birth certificate (which I found out would not work).
Finally, it became clear that the only thing left on the list that would do me any good would be to get a proof of enrollment from my university—another 30-45 minutes away.
It was after three. I hopped in my mom’s car—wait, did I mention that I have had no air conditioning this whole time? My mom generously offered me her car, which I happily accepted. I drove to Jacksonville and went straight to the registrar’s office. And guess what? YOU NEED A PHOTO ID. Luckily, I had explained my situation and presented the only thing I managed to scrounge up—an old Xeroxed copy of my license from 2004 from my file at my mom’s bank—and she was more than happy to help. Finally, I was getting somewhere.
As I got ready to leave, I experienced something I hadn’t had to worry about since years ago when I graduated—school traffic. Fortunately I still remembered some old tricks and got out onto the main stretch via a back road. It was now 415pm. The courthouse in Gadsden closed at five.
I hauled it to get back in time and made it with just five minutes to spare. The women were so nice and quite sensitive to my plight. I took my place in front of the blue screen, slightly worse for wear, and attempted to put a lovely smile on my face. Or at least one that I can live with for the next two years when I renew my license.
It’s ok. I like my old picture better 😦 The one before was HIDEOUS. I was all red-faced and 50 pounds heavier. It was…bad.
The gloom and doom wasn’t over yet.
I drove back to my mom and dad’s about 20 minutes away to have dinner and sulk at my own personal pity party and hopefully pick up my car that my dad was going to try and fix. He came into the den to let me know he had some bad news: my air compressor is toast and my back right tire is so worn out that the strings and wires are beginning to show. And cherry on top: it’s not going to be cheap.
So that’s what I’ve been dealing with. I’m trying to put it past me. Some of my replacement cards came in the mail, and I doing my best to be at peace with the fact that there’s a chance that someone out there is assuming my identity and laughing at all my old college IDs and using my coupons.
Have you ever had your wallet or purse stolen? Was your experience as awful as mine?
PS I almost forgot to mention that I did have a bright moment last week!
I spotted the new Larabars at Publix! (minus Carrot Cake) AND they were on sale! I’ve had Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough (love) and Peanut Butter Chocolate. I still have yet to try the Chocolate Brownie and want to find the Carrot Cake. Do you like Larabars? Have you had any of the new ones?