When Things Go Wrong

When things go wrong, they really go wrong. Or maybe this is just a bad time for me.

First, I lost my Nikon Cool Pix camera, a silvery little thing, skinny as an angel fish and slippery as a palmful of mercury.  It just slipped into another dimension is all I can say.

This happened in August and I whined about it here a week or so ago. Then this past weekend when I posted some photos here, a few especially alert readers commented, “Ah you found your camera!”

But I didn’t find my camera. I used my phone to take those pictures.

So finally, after I had wrestled with my conscience and argued with my pocketbook, I counted up all my coupons from Staples and went to that store and bought a new camera, a fancier one and, more importantly, one that bulges out on one side. Harder to lose, I figured.

Then today since I was at the Mall anyway I ducked into RadioShack  to look for a case for it,  which I found. And the salesman was lovely so while I was there I also bought a bigger media card and a battery for the remote control of my Bose radio. I paid,  pulled out my car keys, tossed ‘em in the RadioShack bag and started for my car. But then at the last minute I thought I might just run into that rest room outside Nordstrom’s – oh and maybe grab a coffee at the coffee bar they have just to the right of the entrance.

Then suddenly I was inside Nordstrom’s.  It happens but my excuse was a good one: we have a family wedding on the beach at 11am this Sunday for which I foolishly thought I would wear this gorgeous spun-sugar dress, a gossamer dream of swoops and scallops, the kind of thing Tinkerbell would wear if they ever let her out of those green cutoffs. Only now it  looks now like it’s not going to BE warm and sunny on the beach at 11am. It’s going to be 56° with temperatures climbing to the 60s if we’re lucky and a fair amount of overcast.

I do have another get-up I can wear but no shoes to go with it, which is why I went into Nordstrom’s, after hitting the bathroom and before hitting the EBar where they make such awesome coffee.

Somehow, in one of those three places, I set down the RadioShack bag, which, remember, had my car keys in it.

I got out to the car and immediately got that awful feeling you get when you realize you can’t get into your vehicle.

I had to call my friend Mary let herself into my house with the extra key she keeps for us, went up to old Dave’s bureau, found his key to my car and drove all the way to the mall to rescue me.

I kept thinking as I waited for her that surely I would find the keys inside the car. After all I had made two trips to the car earlier because I’d had my laptop with me and that was too heavy to lug around shopping . Then I bought two skirts and I didn’t want to be carrying them. Thus I had made at least two offloading trips to the car.

Or was it three? Surely the Radio Shack back and the keys were in there too?

Only they weren’t. The RadioShack bag is gone, along with that brand-new camera, a media card, a camera case, the battery for the remote for my Bose radio – AND ALSO my car keys, my house keys, the key to my Post Office box, and the special skinny key chain cards that in my case get me the good deals at CVS,  at Mahoney’s Rocky Ledge Nursery and at Rite Aid. Oh and the one I need to gain entrance to the Y every day.

All this bad luck broke on me at 4pm yesterday and I feel just sick about it.

I called Nordstrom’s and RadioShack and the Mall Office but no one had seen any such bag. I left my name and number.

You don’t think about people stealing stuff but maybe if you’re such a fool as to set down a bag from RadioShack so as to paw through the tumble of discounted shoes, this kind of thing will happen.

I wonder if that happened. Nobody has stolen from me since 1980, when a couple of second-story men shimmied up the columns to our porch, pushed up the window to my study, and relieved us of all our wedding gifts. And my mother’s ring from the Boston Latin school. And my own National Honor Society pin. And the charm bracelet my high school boyfriends kept adding to, wee silver trinket by wee silver trinket until it jingled on my wrist like the ankle bracelet on a gypsy queen.

All gone now, along with this latest list of things, like that new camera that I didn’t get to use even once.

It’s a lesson for me all right and not an easy one.  I’m just hoping for a better day today.

Keys like the ones here – only my key ring holds a good 15 keys plus the 4 mini-cards

17 thoughts on “When Things Go Wrong

  1. Oh Terry,
    I send greetings of empathy.
    I have been there, and I spend a part of every day “looking for….”. I send wishes for self forgiveness.

  2. Terry, I kept waiting for the part where you run around the stores looking for the bag like a chicken with its…..and the mothers pulling their children closer while warily eying you for the crazy you must be!! Heaven forbid one of them be toting a Radio Shack bag! (personal experience talking here, can you tell?)

  3. Terry , what a terrible day….how many black cats crossed your path the day before. Today can only be better and I know it will. But I want to know more about the charm bracelet and all of the boyfriends LOL

  4. It could have been any one of us. Just a few days ago I locked my pocketbook in the trunk of my car, forgetting that my keys were in it. So was my cell phone. So was my AAA card. Angel and I were going to walk in Webb State Park, about 3 miles from my home. We walked those 3 miles back home in the searing heat and humidity. I found my duplicate keys, called a neighbor for a ride back to the park, and was able then to retrieve my keys. I just wonder what will happen next. One thing good about this comedy of errors: I wasn’t in some park in Dracut.

    1. Ha ha I get it – because that might as well by Mumbai for how far it is from your home.
      You walked the three miles in the heat with your dog . You certainly do make the 9th decade o of life look easy !

  5. My oldest, at age 3, left his beloved “Blankie” on a plane en route to his Nana’s house in Mississippi. A frantic dash back through the Houston airport before the departure of our connecting flight did not result in a Blankie recovery. Still no sign of Blankie in the lost and found when we passed back through the same airport a week later. Blankie. Was. Gone. Jack had his first experience with the stages of grief. Just about the time he reached “acceptance,” which in his case meant falling asleep without tears, a miracle occurred. The doorbell rang, and on the stoop stood a man in a purple FedEx uniform holding out a folded-Blankie-sized box. He looked down at the label, then up at me. “American Airlines,” he said, “did you lose something?.”

    1. Carol this is such a tender story. Can I quote you at some point , in a blog or column?
      Would not have to name you at all if that’s your preference (I mean I would only use your first name!)
      But when I read this driving around and around all day today and got to the part at the door – tears SHOT instantly to my eyes.
      Thanks for this testimony….

  6. oh, terry, i hope it all turns up!! keep the faith, a good soul may have found it and dropped it off at a register at nordstroms… or at the coffee bar. i hope to see a happy post tomorrow with the story of rejoicing reunion….

  7. I have been out all day. I thought about you again and again, hoping and praying someone would turn your things in to mall security or Nordstrom’s or somewhere. I hoped to find good news when I logged into my computer just now. Keeping my fingers crossed!

  8. tes!! it alway happens when there’s that “one more thing”…
    i have been known to leave my mastercard in the CVS bag and then..what? sometimes throw the bag away..and then there’s the head first rummaging in the trash barrel….
    so many errands, so many bags…
    i feel just terrible for you – maybe it helps to know how many of us have been there.

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