So a couple of days ago, I reached into my purse to get my checkbook. Not there. A mild state of panic ensued. Where could I have left it? I searched my apartment and used a flashlight to thoroughly search my car. My checkbook was not to be found. And yes, I even checked my purse again two or three times
I called my bank and reported the loss. The bank put a hold on my account, so no one who found my checkbook could forge a check from it. Nevertheless, my nervous system remained activated as I searched the most unlikely places for this record of my bank account information along with several blank checks. Thinking it may have fallen to the floor, I even looked behind my desk and behind the nightstand next to my bed as well. No luck.
This is no way to start a new year, I lamented to myself – my anxiety was rapidly including a lot of self pity. Still, I chose to handle the crisis alone rather than contact family or friends for moral support – why disturb them on a holiday weekend, I thought. It was New Year's Eve when I compulsively looked through my purse again – and there it was, concealed behind an envelope I'd picked up in my mail the other day – “Thank God!” I exclaimed aloud.
It was late evening when I sat down at my kitchen table and enjoyed a glass of wine to celebrate finding my checkbook and the fast approaching new year. And indeed I'm feeling relaxed and happy this morning at 9:36 a.m. on January 1, 2019.