Sunday Night Panic Attack

Do you ever do something so stupid that even you can’t believe it? I mean, really, really stupid? Incredibly stupid? Heart attack-inducing stupid?

I did that last night.

And it drives me freakin’ NUTS when I do stupid things, because, I’m a Queen, after all, and Queens are supposed to be like, perfect. At least in my distorted view of the world.

Wanna’ hear what I did? Sure you do. Everyone wants to hear the stupid stuff that other people do because then it makes them feel all smart and stuff.

So here’s what I did.

First – background.

I travel. A lot. Some of it is vacation, some of it is with the American Red Cross, and most of it is through mission trips. I have two mission trips coming up – Jamaica in January, and Belize in February.

Recently, the Belize trip coordinator asked for some paperwork, including a copy of my passport. I put all my completed paperwork & passport in a beautiful red folder marked “Belize” (I’m very organized!) and whipped up to church last week where I turned over the contents of the folder and had a copy of my passport made. That trip is bagged and tagged now – ready to go. One down, one to go.

Last night, the Jamaica coordinator contacted me and said she needs my paperwork for HER trip, including a copy of my passport. I go to get my passport in its usual spot – and it’s a nice, organized spot – due to my OCD and all - and guess what?!

It’s not there. Okay…where is it? Hmmmm…..let me think……The last I had seen that darn passport, it was in the red Belize folder when I came home from church last week.

Okay – where’s the red Belize folder?

And then….I remembered….I had thrown that stupid red Belize folder away. I thought it was EMPTY!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My passport is somewhere in the TRASH!!!!!!!

Okay – breathe. Breathe in, breathe out. Think. It’s 9:00 pm Sunday night. Trash is picked up at 7:00 am Monday morning. I have 10 hours to find that stupid, stupid red folder – and my beloved passport. I can do this. Maybe. But it’s in the TRASH! Which means it could be really gross and icky and slimy!!!! Ewwwww!!!

With my eyes bugging out of my head, my heart racing at 100 miles an hour, and a moan of despair that could be heard throughout the land, I went racing to the garage, screaming at hubby that “I HAVE TO FIND MY PASSPORT!!!! IT’S IN THE TRASH!!!”

Now – let me say – we are in the process of moving. Therefore, we have been doing a lot of packing. I don’t like packing. To me, it’s easier to just toss stuff. So – we have a LOT of trash.

I look at the piles of trash bags in front of me – where to begin?! This is seriously like a freakin’ episode of “The Amazing Race” – only its REAL LIFE and it’s not funny, people! I’m hyperventilating and sweating and trying not to panic. Snort. Okay – honestly? I’m in full panic mode by now.

Hubby has no sympathy for me whatsoever at this point. He thinks I throw things away too quickly – and so now this is a golden “I told you so!” moment for him. He calmly suggests that maybe I should go check my purse before I have a stroke in the garage.

“It’s not IN my purse!!!! It’s in the RED FOLDER!!! OH MY GOD, HELP ME!” I scream in despair. But to make him happy – and to prove him wrong– I go look in my purse.

Guess what I found?

Dammit – I hate it when hubby is right. But at least it wasn’t icky.

Now you know why “Drama” is in front of the “Queen.”

Peace.