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The other day, someone gave me a check.  It wasn’t for a huge amount of money (I mean, every penny makes a difference to us right now, but still).  I kept it in the pocket of my jeans, which, I won’t lie, I usually wear a couple (or a few) times before washing (don’t judge).  The check was there, right where I placed it, a tad bit cavalier now that I think of it, but secure enough, as far as I knew.

Until it wasn’t.

I reached into my pocket to take it out, and it wasn’t there any more.

I admit, I freaked more than a little bit.  I was upset at myself for misplacing something my family needed (it was enough to buy a month’s worth of pampers for the baby).  I was upset that I hadn’t just taken it directly to the bank or at least moved it to my wallet at the first possible opportunity.  I had been careless, and I knew it, and now I was facing the consequences.

I turned immediately to Tony, or St. Anthony I guess I should call him.  You see, I lose things so often that I think of him as a close, personal friend.  We moved beyond first name basis years ago and are onto nicknames.  I’m sure he thinks of me as “Bridgiekins”.  I’m also convinced that he oftentimes hides things on me, just so that I’ll have to ask for his help.  Just go with me on this one.

I believe my prayer went something like this: “C’mon, Tony!  I am not in the mood to play this game today!  Just give me back my check, please!”

A few minutes later, after a fairly frantic search: “Seriously Tony!  I am not kidding.  Give it back, now.”

Apparently, he didn’t like this appeal.  The check didn’t turn up.

Photo by Danny McL

Photo by Danny McL

Lesson learned.

Move on.

Until yesterday morning.

When I had given up.

And wasn’t even looking for it.

And found it randomly on the floor.

No where near where I think I lost it.

Well play, Tony.  Well played.

(And before anyone gets all “You can’t talk to a saint like that!” trust me, I can and do, on a regular basis.  Tony and I are just that tight.  We’re so close, my two year old says “Thank you Saint Anfrony!” whenever we park the car, without being prompted.)

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