This one comes with a story.
One that I am slightly embarrassed to admit, but telling with the idea that someday I will laugh about it. It’s the memories…. Right?
I spent most of the day cleaning and preparing the balcony for its new guests, Charlie & Betty. After completing my to-do list I headed to the grocery store. In the line I had all my items unloaded from my cart when I realized I did not have my Colombian ATM card nor did I have a whole lot of Colombian peso on me (Matt has a local account in his name and he received one ATM card for it. I use it the majority of the time and because of this do not carry my American banking cards with me)
So, I began that horrific process of trying to figure out how much cash I had and what I could afford in my cart. It was awful. I’ve never experienced this before and with a language barrier it was nothing short of traumatic. I assumed my lovely husband had taken the card out of my wallet and not forewarned me. Therefore this was all his fault. Until I confronted him with my emotional scars from this recent situation and he informed me he did not have the card. Again. Searched my wallet.
Yep, you guessed it. Shoved in the wrong place among some random receipts was the bank card.
Now does the Corona make more sense?
(and yes my husband forgave me for my wrongful accusation. He knows I have a flair for the dramatics)
No comments :
Post a Comment