I had an amazing experience this weekend. I bought a monthly train ticket at the cost of $76.50 or therabouts. I bought it maybe last Tuesday or Wednesday. Saturday I had to catch a bus to pick up my adorable grandchildren for the inaugural babysit with Sadie, now 8 weeks... anyway, I'm about to get on the bus and I get out my little MET folder for the ticket and the ticket's not there! EEK!
I thought, appealing to my calm inner self, that it must have fallen out in my bag, which was at home. So I do the swap with my daughter and bring the kiddies back to mine, where my parents (and this has nothing to do with anything, just thought I'd tell you) picked up the little boy so I could concentrate on baby... THEN I looked for the ticket, which had 26 days left on it by the way.. and NO TICKET! My heart sank right to the pits, I can tell you. How will I tell him who deserves to be told but who would justifiably not be impressed. $76...
I rummaged in the bin for the last months ticket, kept the day's ticket in a probably vain attempt to indicate my legitimacy, hoping the ticket man would remember me...
I didn't sleep too well, not just because of night feeds, but because after baby was back in bed I'd lay awake, worrying and fretting and feeling dread.
Sunday afternoon. I thought I'd walk past the bus stop and have a look, not expecting anything. Problem is, of course, I validated the ticket when I got on the bus so if I dropped it, which I obviously did, then it would have been on the bus... but I had to try something.
So I bundled (cutest ever) baby into pram and walked down. About 12 of so metres before the stop, I picked a ticket up off the ground... AND IT WAS MY TICKET! I couldn't believe it! I checked it at least a dozen times, getting it out carefully, but yes it was. Is. Crinkled from the downpour but clearly vivisbly mine.