Katsu and I had just left the house and were headed to Providence airport, where we would meet my dad and my sister and fly to Pittsburgh for my uncle’s wake. Everyone was on edge – his death was unexpected, to say the least, and our whole family was feeling the effects of the tragedy. Also, we were running just a touch late, and when people (read: my mom and dad) are stressed out (read: grief-stricken), the last thing one wants to do is be late (read: an asshole).

So you can imagine how delighted I was to rummage through my purse and find that my wallet was noticeably absent from my belongings.

“HOLY SHIT TURN AROUND,” I screamed, “MY LICENSE IS GONE!! FUCK! YOU HAVE MY PASSPORT, RIGHT?”

“um, yes?”

“WITH YOU??”

“um, no?”

“FUCK!!!”

We hightailed it back to our apartment, grabbed the passport, and despite our taking the wrong exit off the highway, hitting construction, and fighting our way through downtown Providence, we made it to the airport on time.

We got back from Pittsburgh on Saturday, and since then I’ve used my passport as ID in three restaurants and in Whole Foods, where it took the cashier 20 minutes to figure out a way to use the passport en lieu of the drivers’ license for check verification. Seriously, WHAT DO PEOPLE DO if they don’t drive?

Today, I found my wallet in a random “green grocery” bag, on the rack in the work hallway underneath a fleece. Because I am awesome and keep such good track of my shit.

An aside: Jake took a dump on our floor last night. That cat is going DOWN, let me tell you.

Just look at those beady little eyes.