So where do you go when Saint Anthony does not work. Well, you go straight to the big guy by asking his right hand lady, St. Frances, otherwise known as mom. I had looked and looked and looked for my wallet for three straight days. I tore the house apart for all those days, blamed everyone in sight (yes, sorry Jack). Last night right before the bewitching hour of midnight, I had worn out my calls to St. Anthony and asked St. Frances for a little help. I"m afraid I may have made some promises that now i'm going to have to live up to...at least for a little while. Of course Lyn got sick of my walking in and out of the same rooms, spouting off the same old things. It WASNT in the house, we both knew that because we looked everywhere. I even called the hospital, Starbucks and got ready to retrace my steps. I'm exhausted from looking!!! The stress of it all.
I had gone in and out of my car at least five times last night. I finally went in through the passengers side door, looked across and over the drivers side area and there was that bundle of black leather with a couple of checks and bundles of well worn credit cards sticking out from the side of the drivers side door!!! I proclaimed victory, was called a moron but came away with it.
Now, this wasnt the same, or maybe it was, as when I was growing up and I would follow mom around the house looking for her glasses, that were on her head....or when she was looking for other things that were replaced where she had looked several times...she would swear that the "ghost" helped her find them. I dont know where it came from, but it appeared....maybe moms ghost wanted to play some cruel jokes on me. Okay mum, so the go to church thing was said, maybe even multiple times. The shrine is going to have to be visited soon.
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