Well, just for starters the entire family woke up yesterday with the same cold that only half of the family had been flirting with for a few days. It's the kind of cold that requires umpteen boxes of kleenex for the first 36 hours, the kind that requires you to slather vaseline on your lips and nose because no matter how soft your tissue, your nose is raw because it is a fountain that requires constant attention. This also makes your eyes feel rather weepy; whether that is a symptom of the cold, or the result of feeling miserable, who can say? And your pseudoephedrine apparently isn't doing the trick. Or maybe it is and you should just be grateful. And believe me I'm trying.
We made our own little paper fish for poissons d'avril and stuck them all on Ben. He didn't cry.
And Ben and I spent the morning trying to find his card. You know, the all powerful, as good as cash (except in NYC, where they still like cash better), buy what you need or what you want card? We'd been called by an automated fraud hotline from our bank, although with all those sneaky people phishing for information Ben hung up on them at first. And when the card couldn't be found we checked our account and noticed a discrepancy in the balance and what had been purchased. And so we pulled out all our necessary banking information, and Ben called the bank. And thus we found out that someone else had the card and had gone on a $300 shopping spree Saturday before the bank got suspicious and rejected the card Sunday morning. Surprise!
My reaction consisted mostly of disbelief, albeit mild, that someone would do that. And I felt bad for whomever it is. Really, do people have no conscience? Do they really think, hey! free money for as long as I can get away with this! And I hoped that they were starving in some Jean Valjean sort of way and that they bought groceries and shoes. Ben said realistically, they probably bought a lot of beer.
I'm assuming it was a guy who used the card, because Ben isn't really a gender neutral name, and to him I say: I'm sorry about this whole thing, but I'm glad to be my kind of fool rather than your kind of fool.