The Ways My Trip Sucked 5: Mt Horeb and Dad's House 2
Archived from October 27, 2007
Mount Horeb
On the way back home, we stopped at the Mustard Museum in Mount Horeb, WI. I needed to pick up some exotic mustards and use the restroom. After dropping a duce, choosing my items to purchase and having the salesgirl ring them up, I realized I didn’t have my purse. I must have left it in the bathroom. “This is small town Wisconsin” I thought. “My purse will be right where I left it”. It wasn’t. “This is small town Wisconsin” someone must have turned it in. Nope, no one turned it in. I could feel my blood pumping as my adrenaline skyrocketed. I started getting freaked out because I never carry cash, and that day I had $300 in actual cash in my purse. I went outside, thinking I’d see someone with two purses, or someone fiddling with my wallet. I called my cell phone to see if I could hear it ringing. I was brainstorming what to do: call the police? Literally run through the town looking for suspects? How could anyone find my purse? I’ve lived in LA long enough to learn that if your car or purse get stolen that is the last you’ll ever see of their contents. I was about to start hollering to everyone in the store, to ask if they’d seen someone sneaking away with a purse of Guatemalan flair. Then Trevor handed me my purse. Nothing was missing. He found it in the trash in the bathroom. Some weirdo chose to put it in the bathroom trash rather than turn it into the store. Immediately my blood pressure dropped. I smiled like someone who has gotten their kidnapped child back. All of a sudden the day went from the shittiest of all time to a regular day with an even number of bad and good things in it. And my faith in small town Wisconsin was mostly renewed.
But I couldn’t get over the weirdness of someone putting my purse in the trash. My father said “that’s an inside job.” Implying someone from the store was going to go through my purse after closing. He later said “that’s the work of a professional”. Implying a professional thief was going to return to the Mt Horeb Mustard Museum later in the day to go through my purse. Personally, I think the customer who went to the bathroom after I did wanted to give me a scare and punish me for going to the bathroom for so long and so smelly. It was a really effective punishment.
Dad’s house 2.
This time around at my dad’s house, Trevor was going to help me. The project involved clearing out the majority of a room that was completely filled from floor to ceiling with boxes of every childhood garment my brother and I ever put on as well as most of our and my older half sisters’ toys. On top of this cornucopia of dust treasures was about 80 pounds of trash/stuff for good will. Bless Trevor’s heart, he really tried to help. But after a while he said “I can’t do this anymore, my skin is on fire” (from the mighty dust mites). I powered on and did a fair job of getting stuff out of that room. Trevor helped by doing laundry after he nursed his dust-caused skin lesions to a manageable state.
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