Lost and Found

Yesterday at Disney World, I lost my wallet. More correctly, my son threw my wallet out of my purse without me noticing it. When I finally did realize it, I was actually very calm. Because the fact of the matter is, I knew my wallet would be turned in. Afterall, I was in Disney World, the safest, most controlled, cleanest, most organized, most staffed with conscientious employees place on the planet.  Indeed the wallet was at Lost and Found when I checked in there a few hours later, just as I expected it to be. The quiet confidence of absolute security. 

Now, my normal luck with wallets is much worse. I have had one stolen out of my bag on the Bart in Berkeley, and I had my entire purse stolen from a cafe at the Smithsonian, neither of which were ever returned. I have never lost my wallet or had it stolen in Iceland, but I did leave my bank card at a store one time, and had a phone call on my cell phone within a half hour, telling me I had done so, even before I realized it. This seemed a little too big-brother-ish, as a matter of fact.

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