Adjusting

My apologies for the quiet blog week. I’ve been busy, busy doing...I’m not sure what. The amount of new busy-ness seems to expand to meet the lack of busy-ness that befell the household after the lad left. It’s the strangest thing. I’ve been home less this week than in the many weeks prior.

It’s still a struggle getting used to this new lifestyle. I’m not used to living alone and it really does take some adjustment. But I guess I’m past the stage of railing against reality. So, Terry and Abbie and I are gradually getting used to new schedules and daily rituals. We haven’t reached the point of actually liking it yet, but we’re managing. Kind of. Terry still stands around staring at the front door, waiting for it to burst open. She misses her boy, too.

The lad called me yesterday afternoon and it was an odd phone call. We’re all in the midst of a major transition and I don’t think any of us quite have our feet solidly on the ground yet. He definitely likes his independence and, I think, is struggling to figure out how to deal with his parents. While he knew that his Dad and I would miss him, I don’t think he anticipated how annoying it might be trying to satisfy two parental households. I’ve managed not to call the lad yet and have only sent a couple of emails, but I gather the other parental household has been somewhat less restrained. The lad said that he doesn’t want to have to spend every day returning phone calls and crafting reassuring emails. I suggested he just be patient for a couple of weeks. This is as much of a transition for the parental units as for him. Patience and some kindness will serve him well in the interim. Of course, I’d love to hear from him a couple of times a week, but I also don’t want his phone calls to become duty phone calls. And that’s kind of what yesterday’s phone call felt like. I’d prefer him to call when he *wants* to, not because he thinks he should. Having told him that may have been the right thing to say, but I have a feeling I’ll regret it for a while. Or maybe not. Who knows?!
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In the department of absentmindedness: I managed to lose my ATM/debit card on Wednesday—the day I had my hair cut and fancied up. I recall using the card at the ATM across the street from the salon, but I don’t remember sticking the card back in my wallet. It’s usually one of those automatic things that doesn’t require thought. But now I can’t remember if I actually did it. I know I didn’t buy anything or extract cash from anyplace else after I left the salon. I had to have left it in the ATM machine. First time in 20 years, if that’s the case.

Last evening I stopped at the salon to see if I’d left it there. No, the receptionist said, my card wasn’t there. And then she went on to regale me with the story that’s “been on the news all day.” Someone left a card in the ATM machine across the street and another customer took it and tried to buy stuff all over town with it. Yikes.

I rushed right home to check my account online. Looked fine. Apparently it wasn’t my card. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one having an absentminded moment on Wednesday.

Anyhoo, my bank has cancelled my card and a new one will be on the way in another week. I find that living without my debit card is hugely inconvenient. I wanted to run up to the mall last night to pick up the lad’s new glasses so I could ship them out this morning, but I didn’t have enough cash in my wallet to pay the stupid tolls. It was when I stopped at my bank’s ATM that I realized the card wasn’t in my wallet. What a helpless feeling. The bank was closed and I was outta luck. It’s going to be a long 10 days before the new one arrives.