If Week-Old Pizza Won't Kill Me, Maybe Stress Will

Farmer H has such a vast repertoire of possible fatal incidents for me. It's almost like he's an evil mastermind. Or at least half of that.

While I was busy trying to live on Monday night, Jan 31, held hostage in the North ER, Farmer H became obsessed with getting my debit card. I'd had it in my shirt pocket for my convenient care visit, along with my ID and insurance card. They always bill later, but you never know when policy might change. It's easier to have it all handy, rather than dig around in your purse for it. Especially when you're not feeling well.

Farmer H kept telling me on my burner phone that he needed to get that debit card.

"Ain't no reason why you should have that in the hospital. You don't want that laying around."

I guess he was pretty insistent when he barged in with my phone to be delivered to me. Because the gal who brought the phone said, "Your husband says he needs to get your debit card."

"Oh, it's in my shirt pocket."

She brought my shirt, I fished it out of the pocket, and she took off with it. I think Farmer H mentioned that he had it. I don't quite remember all the details that night, but Farmer H quit harping about getting that card.

On Monday, Feb 7, when I'd been back home a few days, I remembered my debit card. Because I'd need it for my follow-up appointment with my doctor on Wednesday, Feb 9.

"Oh, where did you put my debit card? I'll need it for my appointment."

"It's where you keep it. On your glasses case in the kitchen."

"No. I've looked there. That's only my ID and insurance card."

"I put it there. To make sure you'd see it."

"How did you do that? I had my glasses case with me."

"She's right, Dad. I had to get it out of the hospital bag for her."

"Well, I know I put it there. Let me look in my billfold, but I know I took it out. No. Not in here. I put it on the glasses case."

"You couldn't have. YOU go find it."

"Huh. It's not here. I know this is where I put it."

"I really need that card. Now you've lost it."

"I didn't lose it! I put it right there."

"Are you saying that I took it and did something with it, here convalescing with nowhere to go?"

"Alls I know is I put it there."

"You need to find it, or I'll have to get another one from the bank."

Farmer H puttered around the kitchen, digging through the stamps and the bill holder and basically moving things around on the counter, according to The Pony.

"Oh. I know. I put it in your checkbook thing so you'd see it."

"Checkbook thing? The register where I write down the transactions? How did you find that?"

"No. Your checkbook thing." Farmer H carried my actual checkbook into the living room. He had stuck my debit card in a slot inside.

"At least I have it now. Go put it in my glasses case. I would NEVER have looked there for it. I don't keep it there."

Farmer H has some wonky ideas. And a short memory.