Things like this try my sanity. Not that I get all worked up about it, but because I just was so unfocused in routine to truly decypher the events unfolding.
While in Cleveland we decided to stop at Carrabas for dinner. After sufficiently stuffing our pie holes with dinner, the plates were cleared, the bill brought, and the debit card submitted to the waitress for bill payment.
The bill and it’s leather carrying case rearrive during which time MArgo and I are chatting about lord knows what. I sign the bill. Then, like I always do before I leave places like this, I recheck my wallet to make sure I have returned my debit card to its proper location.
Lo and behold it was not there. I searched the wallet, the table, my pockets, my jacket, the floor. Nowhere. It must have never found its way back to me or it would be on my person or at the table.
No big deal really. Call and cancel the old, and wait for the new card. It just bugs me that I don’t remember for sure that it did not come back with the bill.