Dumpster Diving

I guess it has to be I that lost the envelope containing $155.00 in twenty's, a ten and a five. Now that is not a lightweight envelope that could fall out of my purse. So I backtracked in my mind where I went that day, like the Library, the drugstore, the Hospice Thrift Shop, Old Navy and home. Why would I remove an envelope I put deep into the well of my bag called a purse? (Because the money was for someone else by the way) I realize this blog post does not carry much depth like some of the past ones, but that dumpster I decided to check on was plenty deep. After shedding a few tears that if named would be called "pissed off," sad, and tired tears. Thinking of how hard I worked for that $155.00 Wha Wha, and what a great deal I thought I got at the Hospice Thrift Store which now puts me in a new kind of hole. I have checked all the drawers in the house, cleaned out the car, taken my trusty little step ladder we all have one, down to the dumpster room all the time having good thoughts and great hopes of finding the envelope filled with money. I open the heavy door and the aroma is less than magnificent. I deal. Walk over to the one of four huge green containers and slightly touch it. I suspect I was de-sensitizing myself slowly. Did it do any good? Nope. I pulled it away from the wall, lifted and propped the huge lid against the cold cement gray wall and then climbed up the steps and peered down into a vessel of stench. I removed two large bags, then spotted what I thought were "my bags." I bent over the edge and leaned in when suddenly the earth felt like it was moving....oh my God don't let the lid fall on me! The darn thing had started rolling. Then my thoughts raced to, "What if someone walks in on this 8 X 10 glossy?" Well I will just tell them, "No I am not hungry, I lost a packet of cash money and this is the length I will go for it to be in my possession once again." Then thinking the person or persons who didn't really walk in didn't want to hear all that anyway. Coffee grounds, spoiled chocolate milk, doggie pee pads, old cat food, and last but not least, used kitty litter, but no bank envelope holding my money! Now I have moved onto extra sensory and paranormal candle burning to see if my dead Grandma will tell me where the H my money is. So far she hasn't come forth. The good news is: I have more money where that came from so I need to relax.

photo from www.planebuzz.com/Inspirational