Did I mention here – I know I did on Facebook – that I accidentally left my purse in the hotel we stayed at when we were away at my nephew's funeral? Well, I did. And my book bag, too. Ugh and ugh.
Because the last words I heard from the maid coming into our room to clean were, "Tip? Tip? You leave tip?" when I discovered I'd left my purse I was convinced she'd probably lifted it, taking her own tip. So I called down there to talk to the manager. The first time I called I got what seemed to be the run-around. The receptionist at the hotel told me, "The cleaning staff doesn't speak English. You'll have to call back tomorrow…"
Great. So I called and talked to the manager the next day. She assured me they had my purse and bag, and she'd ship it that day.
Relief! Ah, but tempered with a bit of disbelief, too. Would it really show up on my doorstep? Did she mean what she said, or was it her way of making me believe she'd done the right thing, only to claim it must have been "lost in the mail", while she was out racking up bills on our credit cards?
I'm humbled, and jubilant, to tell you the package arrived at my doorstep today. So far as I can tell, all my possessions are intact, unless she nabbed a pen or a breath mint I didn't miss. All week I've been driving without a license (!), with no means of stopping by the store to buy anything, but now I'm fully legal again.
Except the fact my driver's license actually expired on my birthday, which was last Sunday. Whoops.
Let this be a lesson to me, the third when it comes to having a missing purse returned. All three times I've been so negligent as to lose it, it has come right back to me no worse for wear. What could have been a real pain in the arse turned to relief in all instances. And I feel badly for what I assumed of the maid. Turns out she was honest, that our lack of a tip (is that really usual?) had no bearing on how she did her job, that she fulfilled the moral obligation to return what wasn't hers.
In my defense, going to that funeral was rough. Beyond rough. I was emotionally shattered and morose, seeing no real light in the tunnel. The fact I'd also fallen out of bed at the hotel, landing right on the knee I'd had surgery on less than two weeks ago, added much insult to injury (literally). Then, the missing purse, and the feeling of desperation and self-chastisement. It all added significantly to my feeling the world must have gone insane. The combination of the loss and much smaller issues – in context – kept me from sleeping through the night for two entire weeks. I was a mess.
Then comes a tiny ray peeping through the clouds in the form of my missing things showing up again. It isn't enough to convince me life isn't capable of being an unfair bastard, or that everyone is to be trusted, but it's one small bit of good in an otherwise unimaginably horrible time in my life.
I'm chalking it up to another life lesson learned, getting it through my thick skull that all such lessons aren't negatives. When I lock my keys in my car, forget my card key (to get into work) at home, or spill something on myself I invariably believe it's the Universe's way of smacking me one. But what I don't consider are things like this, times when things work out, the Universe is saying, "Sorry about that knee thing…"
Will this turn me around? Have I had an epiphany? Hell no. But it is good to have something work out well for a change, and I have – in this case – learned a little lesson about the honesty of the average person. Maybe next time I do something this stupid it won't work out as well, but for this time I'm going to appreciate that it did.