Carelessness, not misfortune

I have my wallet stolen once every seven years or so.  Is that good benchmark or does make me a careless idiot?  Or both?  In early 1998, I foolishly agreed to someone’s request to wear my jacket at a club but without removing my wallet (that latter task was done for me).  I was 16 and chalked it up to experience.  In late 2005, while I waited in a bus queue in Romania (on a planned trip to Moldova), two thieves worked in concert – one picked my pocket and the other ran away making it look like he had stolen the wallet.  Memo 2: place wallet in secure pocket.  This third time wasn’t outright theft – I simply didn’t put it back in my breast pocket properly.  It must have fallen out and the person who found it didn’t have the decency to hand it into an authority, even though they would rapidly have discovered it contained no cash.  I can’t give a lesson for this one as I am such a klutz - I kept mislaying my wallet all over the house previously.

But I have my health and my family.  Not to get the wallet back is sad as it has a few favourite photos in there as well as the inconvenience of card cancellation and replacement, but, all things considered, it’s just possessions.  The people that I love are the ones that matter.