Today after our morning coffee I headed back to the local police station to see if my lost wallet had been turned in. No such luck. So, I continued on to the national police station to begin the process of replacing my residency card.
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| NEWLY PLANTED PALMS LINING THE PLAZA OF “MEDITERRANEA.” |
It’s about 2.5 km there and today was summer-like. So I walked along the beach most of the way before turning into the center of town. The walk in the sun was pure bliss and I remained relaxed all the way there.
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| A GLORIOUS “WINTER” DAY. (CLICK EITHER PHOTO TO GLORIFY.) |
Debit and credit cards have all been stopped and new ones ordered (all thanks to San Geraldo). A new insurance card is on its way. The only way to replace my California driver’s license is to go back to California. So, I guess I’ll look into getting my Spanish license.
At the national police station, I learned that I need to go into Málaga to replace my residency card. I had hoped it would be easier than that. After all, I have to renew the card again anyway in just a few months. So, I left the national police very disappointed (although the guy at the desk couldn’t have been more pleasant and empathetic).
I had been doing really well until then. Finally, the self-recriminations kicked in. How could I be so stupid? How could I be so careless? I should have… If I’d only… Every step of the 35-minute walk was worse than the step before. By the time I got home I was flat out miserable and all I could do was crawl back into bed.
But, San Geraldo knew exactly what I would be thinking. After allowing me my hour to mope, he bucked me up and got me back on track. (I am so grateful to him for not once saying something along the lines of, “You should have been more careful.”)
Losing my wallet was an accident. I didn’t set out to do it and I can’t change the fact that it’s done. People lose wallets and purses, and phones, and laptops, and a host of other things all the time. Besides, as San Geraldo pointed out, if these things didn’t happen, I’d run out of topics to blog about.
Then I came across this 1973 photo of me “dressed” for a cousin’s wedding. Talk about a mistake!!!
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| IF I CAN FORGIVE MYSELF FOR THIS, I SHOULD BE ABLE TO FORGIVE MYSELF FOR ANYTHING. |
