Today I made official what I thought yesterday, my wallet isn't in the house. I have searched everywhere and the last place I had it was in the Pavilions Shopping Centre in Swords. I know that as I bought, and no. 2 wrote, a birthday card there on the bench outside Easons.
Yesterday, I thought 'must be in the car', it wasn't, so today I searched the house and rang practically every shop in the shopping centre. Then I went to the shopping centre, just in case, where I had a lovely chat with the woman working in Michael H and a very brief one with security.
Himself reckons for every one pissmonkey (Arthur's term - wouldn't you know?) there are six nice people and the lovely woman from Michael H and I reckon that for every one nice person there are six piss monkeys! She hadn't seen my purse either and said that the place is riddled with chancers and whatnot. Yesterday a woman paid for her groceries in Superquinn and then, on her way out, stole a box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers. Security followed her out to her '10 BMW and challenged her, she admitted it and was taken back inside ... dumdumdum (scary music for effect).
I am assuming I dropped my purse rather than had it stolen. Either way, someone found it and decided to keep it. Which is really shitty. My business cards were in it, along with various loyalty cards, photos of the kids and, this is the bit that kills me, 80stg (for our summer holidays) and 80e in gift vouchers that I was given for my birthday. All the money I have, as a matter of fact.
If whomever found my wallet was a nice person they'd have rung by now, my number is all over that purse and I'm guessing that whoever found my purse was, in fact, a proper bloody piss monkey.
I'd hand in something like that, wouldn't you? Or ring the person whose name is written on it, do the decent thing.
I am trying to hold on to that bit of me that always thinks well of people but it's slowly being eaten away. Eaten away by this, the shit who took my phone at Christmas, the people who batter elderly people in their homes for their pension money. People who never hold open doors or say thank you when someone else does.
Himself gave me what was left of HIS birthday vouchers and no. 2 put all his piggy bank money in an envelope and wrote "to Mam, love from Oscar" on it. I don't know who made me cry harder.