This morning, I woke up at 7:00. Today is Saturday. Cassie and I had decided three days ago to have a yard sale. Since both of us live in the middle of nowhere, we'd asked our Mom if we could hold it at her house, which is located five minutes from a military base. We posted the yardsale on some Facebook community boards last night.
At 7:30, G and I were traveling down our country road when I noticed the Explorer had very little gas. I checked my wallet, and saw an empty pocket where the debit card should have been. I turned around immediately and retuned home. B was surprised I was back so soon, and he watched as I scoured the house for Josh's wallet.
It wasn't anywhere, so I raced outside to check my car. Josh had driven it to work yesterday since the Explorer was full of yard sale wares. The wallet was in the car, but the debit card wasn't in the wallet.
I raced inside to interrogated my sleeping husband. I didn't want to wake him so early on a Saturday, but my anger was growing. He claimed it was in the "flippy downy thingy."
Back to the car. I checked the visor. I checked the passenger visor. Nothing. I called Josh in a panic, then noticed the sunglasses holder. A flippy downy thingy. Sure enough, the debit card was there. I hung up.
I will not recount my comments as I returned to the Explorer. As I seat belted in TWENTY MINUTES after leaving the first time, my wise soon-to-be-four-year-old remarked, "You know them not take debit cards at yard sales."