(I'm gonna backdate (backtime?) entries that I write by hand to reflect when they were actually written)
For two hours this afternoon, I could not find my passport.
It had been in plain sight for, oh, six months. It was my primary id in November, when I lost my wallet. It spent several months atop a pile of stuff in the den. It came to Florida, quite unnecessarily, just a few weeks ago.
Question was - did it come home?
For two sickening hours, I thought the answer was no. Or rather, for one hour I thought that Mom had stuffed my passport in a drawer in a cleaning fit and forgotten about it. And then for another hour I was convinced I'd left it in Epcot and that was the closest I was ever gonna get to Europe this year.
I was nauseus, I was panicked, I was deer-in-headlights'd, I was plotting how I could go into hiding for the next few weeks so I wouldn't have to tell everyone what happened.
And then I pulled the den couch forward, and burst into tears. Thank fucking god.
Back to packing...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment