The folks that know me well will be aware of my complete inability to keep track of my wallet.
It, apparently, has a mind of its own.
Before I tell the story, I have to digress slightly to a story that ran in the local press last week, as it is germane to the tale that follows.
A male masseur was reported to the police by one of his female customers for allegedly inappropriate behavior. She reported that she felt something hard pushing into her back as she received a shoulder massage, and immediately assumed (wrongly as it turns out) that he was pressing his erection against her. When the police turned up later the same day to question the alleged pervert, he pointed out to them the large wallet in his trouser pocket.
OK, I’ll avoid any comments about pressing needs etc and get on with the story.
I was checking in on a friend who is looking after 3 children this week, 2 girls and 1 boy, while the mom of 2 of them was away on business. I told my friend I would look after them all if she needed to get out or just take a break. They had just been to the library and had a whole stack of books to read, so we all sat down on one chair to read them. I had one girl on each knee and the boy standing behind me looking over my shoulder. They are lovely kids, so I was enjoying the moment until I was suddenly, acutely aware that the wallet in my pocket was sticking into one of the girl’s legs. It wouldn't normally have occurred to me, but after you read an article like that, you can see how things can develop.
I suddenly had visions of her saying to her Mom afterwards, “Wally’s leg was really uncomfortable. There was a big bump in it,” or something to that effect, and knowing my luck, I’d get carted off screaming, “No, really, it was just my wallet, Arghh!!!! So, I took it out, placed it on the table, and promptly left it there.