Appallingly, I lost my wallet again on Saturday. I know I had pulled it out for the Visa at lunch that day, and now, six hours later, going through the McDonalds drive-through, I reach back and go to pull out ... nothing. It is deeply embarrassing not to be able to pay for your food.

So I called Chinooks, and no, they didn't have my wallet. Only an hour or two till the CC. No one had left a "hey buddy, got your wallet here" message on my machine. I am sitting there, and I cannot believe that I've lost it yet again. Scrounging around in the car, no wallet to be found. I scramble for home. I seem to be on a quest to discover how completely irresponsible one person can be.

At home, I look around like a crazy guy for my wallet. It's not in the kitchen, it's not under the bed, and it's not in the basement. It is just not to be found. I cannot believe this is happening to me again.

I ransack the car a second time. My wallet persists in its absence.

When I am recapping the wallet-losing experience at the CC that evening, I will mention that I have an insane amount of respect for women who carry purses. They have to track something completely separate from their body and try not to lose it. Sure, my satchel follows me almost everywhere I go, but it's just filled with optional life stuff. If I lose it, I lost my digital camera, a couple of books, my visor and keyboard and cell phone, checkbook, and so on. It's annoying and expensive, but it's just stuff.

Losing your wallet, though, is life-disruptive. There's not much optional stuff in your average wallet. You lose your ability to conduct even the basic transactions to get by. No cash, no way to access cash or credit, illegal driving and being afraid of getting pulled over, no proof of insurance, no keycard for work, and no way to ride the bus. Ugly. So when girls put that much of the power that enables your life into a purse and carry it around, ready to be lost or stolen, dang. That's brave. Personally, I feel better having all the critical stuff bonded to my right buttock.

So now, losing it yet again, I am all but frantic at the thought of having to go through all the lost wallet hassle for the second time in two months.

I wonder if I dropped it while mowing the lawn, and go out looking for a shredded wallet. Not there. I go over to ask K~ next door if she found it. No.

Finally, it occurs to me that the only other thing I've done today that I haven't checked is when I was on the roof sweeping off pine needles and cleaning out the gutters.

Off topic: My dog is so clever. If you don't want to read this paragraph because you don't want to feel badly about your dog's lack of comparable cleverness, I entirely understand. My clever dog likes to chase along underneath me as I pull the accumulated winter crap out of the gutters and toss it down in big two-fisted clumps. My brilliant dog charges the dropping clumps of dirt and needles and leaps it meet it mid-air, snapping at it, trying to grab it out of the air. Perhaps she thinks it is a huge dirty ball of some sort I am throwing to her. I imagine her surprise each time as she spits out a mouthful of dirt and needles, going, "ugh, that was nothing! That was disgusting! Oh! Hello! Incoming big dirty ball!" She charges it every single time.

And it's not like there isn't thought going through her head. When I move from front yard to back, she knows to race back around to the front of the house, go into the garage, climb the stairs to get out the window into the back yard, and race around to the corner where the next dirtball is falling. It comes down to the fact that in her doggy mind the chance, no matter how slight, that the falling blob might contain a ball justifies charging and snapping up every drop. I'm not sure what the consequences would be in the dog world of a ball hitting the ground without doggie interception, but they must be extraordinary for Mr. Fish to need to grab at every one, even when it's apparent as I move around the roof, scooping and dropping blob of crud after blob of crud that not a single one contains a ball. Brave, superhero doggie, selflessly sacrificing herself to protect the world from falling balls.

Back on topic, Scott, representing the most intelligent species of the planet who would never lunge to eat falling dirt, goes to the backyard and climbs to the second level of the yard to look over the roof and sees... his wallet.

With considerable shame and disbelief, the wallet is retrieved from the roof. Perhaps it was up there tanning or enjoying the fresh air. I could understand that. Wallets don't often get either of those opportunities. Who can really blame them for catching whatever moments of unconstrained leisure they can?

But then I noticed the pants I was wearing, and realized that something far more sinister was going on. They were the same pants that lost my wallet the first time! ...Lost? Or rejected? Are my fancy pants Ralph Lauren jeans too good for a wallet? Does the unsightly bulge spoil the line of the otherwise perfect bottom and the pants just can't stand it?

Clearly, there is some sort of biomechanical wallet-ejecting mechanism built into the pockets of these jeans. Each step winds a little spring another notch, until the jeans have stored enough power to release the wallet-catapult, throwing out the wallet and restoring the pristine bottom views that nature intended.

I don't know quite what to do about it. My jeans know that I need them more than they need me. They're one of my last functioning pair of pants without embarrassing holes showing through. They know I'm far too lazy, and hate shopping enough that I am effectively at the mercy of the wallet-hating pants. I am wondering if I can staple the pants shut or add a button or snap to the pocket to lock in the wallet. In the meantime, I am walking around today tapping my rear end every five minutes.