Reruns and Leftovers

The Credit Card

Sometime before Christmas, as I was getting into my car, I noticed something stuck between the seat and the console. So I bravely stuck my hand into that deep dark black hole where loose change, French fries and Goldfish go to die. And lo and behold it was a credit card! It was Antique Daddy’s credit card.

At least once a week, Antique Daddy loses his money/credit cards/keys and I freak out and turn the house upside down looking for them. And while I’m busy freaking out and digging through the trash, he’s busy helping me freak out by watching the news or eating a bowl of cereal. And then later, I usually find the lost item in a coat pocket or some other unlikely place. And so then I lecture him on the benefits of being OCD and how that when you obsessively and compulsively check your wallet for your credit card four or five times before you leave a store or a restaurant you rarely lose those kind of things and clearly, it’s a better way to live. And then I invite him to sign up for a free trial.

So when I found his credit card along with an earring and a petrified tootsie roll (at least I think it was a tootsie roll), I decided I would teach him a lesson. I would stash his credit card somewhere for a while and let him freak out while I ate a bowl of cereal. So I did. I wrote a clever little note telling him exactly when and where I found his credit card and then I put it in his sock drawer. But then Christmas came and apparently he never wore socks in December and I not only forgot that I found the credit card, I forgot that I had hidden it, let alone where I had hidden it.

So then.

Earlier this week when Antique Daddy reported that he couldn’t find his credit card, I once again freaked out and turned the house upside down and dug through the trash looking for it. And I guess you probably know by now that I didn’t find it. Yes indeed, these blonde roots go clear down to the brain where they tangle up and choke the intelligence out of the logic/thinking/recalling lobe.

As I’m bent over the trash can and digging through it for the third time, Antique Daddy shows me the credit card and my oh-so-clever note that he found in his sock drawer.

Perhaps it was the coffee grounds under my fingernails or the stench of things therein that, truly, you do not want to know, but somehow the note wasn’t nearly as clever as I remembered. And the spousal object lesson wasn’t nearly as gratifying as I’d imagined either.

 Originally published January 2007

28 thoughts on “The Credit Card

  1. I LOVE this one!!!

    “And then I invite him to sign up for a free trial.” BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

    Nobody around here wants my “free trial” either, but I keep ’em comin’ anyway. The trials, I mean. I’m nice like that.

    Merry After Christmas and Happy Almost New Year, AM!

  2. I’m claiming pregnancy made me stupid. I have to ask – did he have a smug look on his face when he handed you the note as milk dribbled down his chin?

  3. That is absolutely fabulous!

    I have hidden my daughter’s cell phone (which I magically find under couches, in the bathroom, in a shoe) all the time, but she never comes asking me if I’ve seen it. She knows better muahahaha. So then I just end up giving it back to her saying, “here I found this.” It really wrings all the drama and enjoyment out of the exercise.

  4. Linked over from Jennifer’s site. You had me at OCD being a better way to live 😉 That’s my motto too.
    This story cracked me up, gonna read some more at your site, will be back as well. Thanks for the laugh.

  5. Wow, this one really hits home for me. I feel so lucky to not be alone in the lost “OCD” credit card realm. Recently, my hubby re-tracked his 15 mile bicycle route to find his missing card, where he was convinced it fell out of his jersey pocket. Turns out it was under the bed in our guest room. As per usual, we found it after I neurotically cancelled the card ($15 fee later)!

  6. AM,

    When I got knocked up and it was all down hill from there. In fact, that was how I started my migration into motherhood. I left my debit card at Walgreen’s when I purchased a pregnancy test.

    In fact, it’s gotten so bad that I have to…

    1. Create a treasure map of my home to locate the refillable room deodorizers distributed throughout my house.
    2. Create a map to find the treasure map.
    3. Rely on the kindness of other mothers when I forget vital things like diapers, snacks, sunscreen, tissues, Vodka, etc.
    4. Carry my cell phone in my bra, so I don’t forget it like my purse… at the ice cream parlor… an hour and a half away from home… on the night before it’s closed for four days.

    Don’t be hard on yourself – it’s a rite of passage. 🙂

    Lyssa

  7. Ouch! Nothing worse than having something like that backfire. Is Antique Daddy the kind to rub it in or does he just quietly enjoy the turnaround?:)

  8. Fortunately, my husband seldom loses things like credit cards, but he loses everything else. Usually something he needs to do something else. I am OCD enough myself that I put everything back where it belongs as soon as I finish with it. Him, not so much. I swear one of these years I’m going to keep track of how much time he spends looking for things and how much time it takes him to do an actual project. I bet he spends twice as much time looking as working.

    Oh, and I’m the one eating the cereal while he frantically looks and accuses everyone of touching his stuff. I know that when found it will be his own doing that precipitated said search.

  9. Now I would’ve thought a clever girl like you would’ve gone and charged a thing or two on it and then pretended to freak out when the bill came to teach him that lesson 😉 hee hee.

  10. Ha ha ha ha ha! I love it. “Free trial,” snerk. My husband hates to wear his wedding ring in the winter time because his finger gets all chapped and irritated. I want him to wear it anyway, because I’m mean like that. Anyway, one day I found it on his nightstand after he went to work and so I hid it, because I was going to TEACH HIM A LESSON, and I giggled imagining him freaking out, not able to find it.

    He didn’t notice for days, and by the time he did I couldn’t remember where I’d hidden it. And he didn’t care to help me look. He just enjoyed his ring free time until we finally found it.

    So, uh, that was a really long way of telling you that I can relate.

  11. Between my husband and myself, neither one of us can ever remember where we put things, so everything we own, that is not tied down, or is too big to lose, is lost. I can blame him and he can blame me, but neither one of us really knows who is at fault!!!

    I am a good one for putting things in a “special place” where I just KNOW I will be able to find it the next time, and then promptly forgetting where the “special place” is. Unfortunately, he does the same thing…..

  12. Sending you major hugs, girl! Can’t figure out why you get so much grief over just posting what you’re thinking. Go sarcastic and say the following is all fiction and you only observed it from afar.

    Btw, you and DeeDee look like twins!! Do a twin thing – fingers anyone?? 😀 Okay, that was bad – I sorry.

  13. What a great blog and a great story behind the antique mommy title. Your story is amazing and beautiful.

    Now about today’s post. I am missing three things right now- so frustrating! I’m off to check the sock drawer— oh please, oh please let there be a note in there explaining my losses!

  14. I thought I was married to the most absent-minded person when it comes to keys, wallets, cell phones and credit cards. Thank you for reminding me I am not alone, LOL.

    Just for the record, my Antique Husband and I have a permanent running joke about his keys. Every time he leaves the house, without fail, he begins to hunt around for his keys. Sometimes, they are hanging on a hook that I had him put up for BOTH of us to hang our keys on. Usually, however they are not. And we have this little exchange:

    HIM: Have you seen my keys?
    ME: Yes, they’re… where you always leave them.
    HIM: Where?
    ME: Where you always leave them. Between the sofa cushions.

    This dialogue only varies if they are not where he always leaves them: pants pocket, office table, etc.

  15. Oh how refreshing to find someone else whose house functions like ours!! Wow this post really made my day to see I am not alone. Lost keys, credit cards, cell phones etc….you make digging through the trash sound so normal!! Thanks! Glad I found your blog!!! 🙂

    ~Sandy

  16. But, you really could have gotten some gratification from wiping the smirk (that I KNOW was on his face) off with the note and then wrapping the card in it before shoving them both up his butt.

    PS: We bought a summer sausage for the holidays, and all I could keep thinking about was your Yard ‘O Beef.

  17. Alas, I am the “loser” in our family. I just can’t keep my head on straight when it comes to my possessions. Time? Not a problem to keep organized. I am the schedule MASTER.

    Keys? Wallet? Wedding ring (indeed, I lose it on a bi-monthly basis)? Now these things I could do without…why do people need so much stuff anyway?

  18. There should be a Garbage Hunters or rubbish trawling club or a book though it doesn’t have the glamour of the Shell Seekers does it. The times I have to riffle through rubbish either looking for mail or magazine articles I accidentally chucked out (not too bad as the litter bin is mostly paper) or when I dropped my keys in the bin or another time when my loose ring fell off and I ended up hunting through soggy bread and old tea bags.
    Funny site, I’ll be back.

  19. Ha ha, I love the way you write, you are so funny. That is why I am coming back to read more and I find a story that could be straight out of my house… except that like Julie above said… I am the one sitting there eating cereal and saying, “Gosh Honey, I have no idea where your keys are! Sorry, I can’t help you look at the moment…” of course I know exactly where they are because I always see them lying around where they don’t belong. You see, I spent the first 8 or 10 years running around like a chicken with my head cut off frantically trying to find his stuff while the mutual blood pressure soars through the ceiling. I finally decided it wasn’t good for me (or him for that matter) to constantly help him find the things that he loses. If he didn’t think it was important enough to put away then why was I stressing over it? Sounds harsh I know but my life became much more pleasant when I stopped joining in that silly game. I am not sure but I don’t think he loses them as much now. =)

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