It's All Coming Back to Me ...

Tea: Moroccan Mint

Music: Jamiroquai, "Virtual Insanity"

Time: Night.

Yesterday was a bad day for hanging onto things. Today was a great day for getting them back.

First, I left my cell phone charger at Homer's. Or at least I was pretty sure I'd left it there, even though nobody could find it when I called last night. Then I lost my bright orange Arts Incubator stocking cap, which serves the dual purpose of (a) keeping my head warm and (b) making me more visible to drivers when I'm out walking.

(I thought about saying something glib on the visibility front, but after the events that prompted last night's post I don't think I will.)

I found the hat this morning, in the middle of the sidewalk alongside a busy street. It lay there all night, and nobody took it. This was a happy surprise.

I put it on and continued walking to Homer's.

The barista rang me up and asked, "How are you doing this morning?"

"I'm doing okay," I said. "I'll be doing wonderfully if anyone has found a cell phone cord. I think I left it here yesterday."

It wasn't in the lost and found drawer. I resigned myself to an excursion to get a replacement.

"Wait," the other barista said. He went over to the coatrack, took a hat off the shelf ... and pulled out my cord. (Beats a rabbit any day.)

On the walk back this afternoon, I found a notebook near the high school. There's a name in the notebook, which means I can leave it at the office in the morning when I drop off my kids.

I'd say that not doing so would be a shame and a sin, in light of getting back my hat and my cord in the same day. But really, wouldn't it be inexcusable no matter what?

Two scary stories tonight, as promised, and they're both from the master. That's right, two scoops of M.R. James:

"The Stalls of Barchester Cathedral"
"Lost Hearts"