Driving home from my parents' I got gas in Bristol, VA, Exit 5. I got a drink and candy (don't tell my Mom), got in the car and took off. As I turned into the entrance to I-81 South, I heard a clunk and wondered what I ran over. Then someone yelled at me that I dropped something. I stopped the car, walked around it and then it hit me.
I had put my fannypack-purse on top of the car. By the time I got back to the intersection it was gone.
I called 911 - Of course, when you're in Bristol -- you call 911 and you get Bristol, VA, Bristol, TN, and Washington County and who knows what. So an hour later, I flag down a city policeman and give him my particulars.
I had already called my charge card and bank. Now, I must replace insurance cards, all those 'store member upc' cards. And my driver license. What an inconvenience.
One thing I did not do was melt into victimhood and cry, expecting someone to 'save' my arse. I totally detest worthless weak wimpy weeping women who manipulate with tears, expecting someone with a generous heart to come to their rescue. Women who manipulate give the rest of us a bad name. Especially if they're blondes.
Was it stupid? NAH -- blonde and carefree? Nope, blonde and careLESS. I've 'known' I was going to do this some time, but I never expected it to be NOW. I know stuff happens for a reason, so I'm waiting for my reason and hoping an honest person has found my fanny pack and will mail it back to me. Even if they keep the $50 my Dad gave me for gasoline.
Then I go to put an AD in the local Bristol Paper and it's going to cost me nearly $200 for ten days -- oops, I've cancelled that one. Will retry with a four day or weekend only ad tomorrow.
Yes, I'm blonde, retired, and need to pay more attention to detail.
Lesson Learned!
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