I’m not saying it was his fault…

Yesterday I stopped off at a bookstore to use up a gift card we had been sitting on for a while.  We have had it for a number of months, and Matt was worried that they might start charging us a service fee soon, so I decided to go in and buy a few things to use it up.

I got to the cash register with my items, then went into my purse to find the gift card.  Here was my inner monologue:

• “Gift card.  Gift card.  Gift card.”
• “Yes, Nate, I know.  Momma’s hurrying.”
• “Where is that gift card?”
• “Why do I have so many gift cards in my purse?”
• “OK, Nate, keep it together.  I’m trying to hurry.”
• “Good Lord I have a lot of junk in here!”
• “Gift card?”
• “OK, hurry up Courtney, you’re holding up the line, and the woman behind the counter is just staring at you, and Nate is really about to lose it.”
• “Oh my gosh, don’t tell me it’s not in here.”
• “Come on Courtney, figure it out, find it already.”
• “Maybe it’s in that other little zippered thing where I keep coupons.”
• “How many little zipper pouches can you have in your purse before it starts becoming a problem, like where people get worried about you because your entire purse is filled with nothing but even smaller zippered pouches where everything is divided?”
• “This woman thinks I’m an idiot.”
• “I may be dangerously close to the socially acceptable limit for zippered pouches in a purse.”
• “Why am I such an idiot?”
• “All of these people behind me…I really need to hurry up.”
• “Where is it?”
• “Oh, Nate, I know, I’m almost done.  Can’t he chew on his shoe or something…I’m almost done.”
• “Why in the world didn’t I double check to make sure it was in here before I got in the store?”
• “OK, great, it’s not there either.”
• “I can’t believe it’s not in here.”
• “Wow, it’s really not in here.”
• “Well, after all this, I can’t just look back at her and say, ‘No thanks, I changed my mind.’”
• “Way to go, Courtney.”
• “Ugghh!”

The nice woman behind the counter, watching me as I got more anxious, flustered, and annoyed by the second, says calmly and sweeetly, “It’s OK, you don’t have to rush.  Nobody’s rushing you.  Take a breath and just relax.  It’s fine.”  Such a nice woman. 

So then I did what any embarrassed, annoyed-at-oneself person would do: I handed the woman my credit card and bought the items that I only picked up in the first place so I could use up that darned gift card.

On the drive home all I could think about was that gift card.  I knew I had seen it in my purse recently.  As soon as I got home I looked in the small little box in the kitchen where Matt sometimes keeps gift cards.  And there it was, safe and sound, chillin’ with a Home Depot gift card. 

I’m not placing blame or anything, because I should have made sure it was in my purse before getting to the store, and I’m not saying my husband went into my purse, took out the bookstore gift card, then placed said gift card in his own special gift card storage space (I really should get him some sort of zippered pouch for things like that), no, I’m not saying any of that.  But, really, this whole thing was my husband’s fault.