The Secret Life of Melanie O.
Friday, April 02, 2010
Menopause - a family affair
A couple of weeks ago, I came home from a long commute, tired and worn down. By the time I got home after two and a half hours of travelling, I was on auto-pilot. I set my handbag down on the lounge inside the door and shuffled my way into the bathroom to splash water on my face and try to perk up for the rest of the evening.

Later that night, as I was working on my computer, I heard noises. It sounded like someone was walking around on my veranda. I was annoyed. We have neighborhood children who play on our veranda without permission and slam doors. We've nicknamed them "the ferals."  "Great," I thought. "The ferals are at it again."

I went to the door and gazed out into the darkness. I couldn't see anyone.

Feeling peculiarly suspicious, I checked my handbag by the door. My wallet was gone! The new pink one I'd just recently purchased. That couldn't be right. I hadn't gone anywhere since I got home! Worried now, I checked the bedroom and the office, thinking that maybe I'd set it down there, even though I didn't remember removing it from my handbag. My wallet has my life in it! Money, ID, credit cards - this was B.A.D.

It wasn't in either obvious place. Now I was really panicking! I called the police and explained that I'd heard noises and the sound of my door closing and I think someone had lifted my wallet! Never mind that a new DVD player was sitting on my kitchen table near the lounge and that hadn't been taken. It was just my wallet. I'd bet anything it was neighborhood teens and they were drinking on my dollar down at the local pub. I had this crime solved even before the police arrived.

The police were very responsive and sent two female officers to the house to take a report. I was a bit shaken up. My house - our castle - had been invaded while I was home alone. I would never feel secure again.

Within 20 minutes after the police departed (no doubt they thought I was some crazy woman on drugs), the crime was solved. I solved it. I found my wallet in the bathroom, sitting on top of a neatly folded stack of face cloths. How it got there, I swear I don't remember. I was the only one home, so I must have put it there. But I don't remember one iota of doing it.

George Carlin had a routine about getting foggy brain as you get older. He asked
"Ever go into a room to get something ... and then forget why you went into it? And the first two words to pop into your head is Alzheimer's disease."

Dan ribbed me about this event for days.

I felt silly about the whole thing, that is, until Dan called me from work last week. His company jacket had been stolen. He'd left it in the break room on a hook, and when he got back from a run, it was missing. Dan was upset. He'd had other things stolen from him in the break room. He'd been given a gift basket from his boss for Christmas, left it in the fridge for a few days, and when he went to retrieve it, the beer and cheese in it had been stolen.

I told him to make sure he never left anything of value in the break room. You just can't trust people to keep their hands off anything that isn't nailed down. Dan agreed, but continued to rant for another five minutes about the den of thieves he worked with. He complained to the office manager and the secretary and they gave him sympathy.

He came home from work that night ... tired after a long day, and went to change out of his work clothes. There, on the bed, was his company jacket.

At least, now we're even. 

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posted by Melanie O. at 10:57 AM -
  • At 5:49 PM, Blogger Brow Raised Beauty said…

    LOL! First, thank you for this. Second, if this is only happening to you now, then I envy you. I'm not sayin' that I ever blamed anyone for my missing (fill-in the blank), but I have this friend...

  • At 6:54 PM, Blogger Melanie O. said…

    LOL Beauty - we seem to be accruing many such moments lately. I blame it on working long hours. a hem...

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About Me
Name: Melanie O.
Home: Durham, North Carolina, United States
About Me: Female, American health and beauty-conscious professional who has rekindled a childhood love of dolls.
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