The Therapy Sessions
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
The story of my life
A few weeks ago, I was taking my older son to see Shrek II (well worth the money).
It was a cloudy Saturday, and we needed something to do. I put a $20 bill in my pocket, strapped the boy into his car seat and headed to the theater.
Sean asked if he could get popcorn. I said that not only we would share a bag of popcorn, but we would also share a soda. Sean loves soda (imagine that), but most of the time he can only gets an infrequent sip.
Sean was very excited. When we got the theater, I paid for the tickets with a credit card.
At the concessions stand, as promised, I ordered popcorn and a Coke.
But there was a problem: I could not find the $20 bill. I checked all my pockets. The popcorn guy looked at me like I was an idiot.
I asked him if he accepted credit cards, and he gave me a " you must be joking" look.
The nearest cash machine was a block away and the movie was almost ready to begin.
I had to break the news to Sean: sorry son, no popcorn or soda.
I thought he was going to burst out crying, but he just gave me a disappointed "OK" and we went sullenly into the theater.
I spent the whole movie wondering what had happened to the money.
A few hours later, I was mowing the lawn and there was piece of trash on the lawn. As is my habit, I steered toward it with the intention of shredding it into a thousand pieces. (The neighbors are always impressed when my lawn is strewn with confetti).
I watched in horror when I recognized that the piece of my trash was my $20 bill getting sucked into the blades!
But it survived!
The mower coughed out my intact $20 bill, which I quickly stuffed into my joyous pocket. I was reunited with my money! What luck!
The next day when I was out driving with my family, I suggested that we get sandwiches.
Sean - who loves any fast food - was overjoyed.
My wife said we didn't have any cash.
But I did, I said. In my wallet, I said, I had a $20 bill.
That $20 bill? She asked. I took that last night when I went to the movies with my friends.
And sure enough, my wallet was once again empty.
My son thinks I'm a dork. And a dick.