Bad Habits and Best Outcomes

I have a bad habit.

Okay....I have more than one, but for this story's sake we are only going to talk about one.

I have a bad habit...that deals with my husband's wallet. And no, it is not that I spend all of his hard earned money either. Although, that may qualify under the bad habit heading too, but we are not talking about that bad habit, we are talking about my bad habit of washing my husband's wallet. If I had a dollar for every time I have exercised this bad habit it would make up for all of his money I've frivolously spent.

Seriously. It's that bad.

I know- "JUST CHECK THE POCKETS!" I know, I know, I KNOW!!! And I do...most of the time. Then there is the rest of the time where you have a mountain of laundry staring you in the face and precious little time to make that mountain transform into clean, folded, ready to put away laundry, so you just start plowing though the loads as fast as you can; there is no time to lose in checking pockets. And then there are days like today.

I checked. I promise. I really did. But when the wallet hunt started I had an awful feeling of where it was going to end up. But I checked! I removed keys, tissues (gross! I might add), and even a hefty chunk of cash that I even honestly returned. I couldn't have missed the wallet filled with all of the receipts from Richard's recent business trips!? All of the receipts that have to be faxed in order for his corporate card to be reimbursed? No, I wouldn't have washed them, because I checked.

A peek into the washing machine told me different.

It looked like Mardi Gras with all of the confetti that littered the damp clothes- a confetti that consisted of receipt paper. I wanted to crawl under the washer and co-habitate with the dust bunnies that undoubtedly live there and I could have, since I felt about that tall. I was numb. I didn't know what to do. Before being pulled away with a call for work Richard put his arm around me and told me it wasn't my fault.

I continued to pick out  pieces trying to find any that were big enough to be pieced together. Unfortunately, there weren't many. I felt awful. I felt sick. Richard came back and the arm went back around me as he quietly told me to stop what I was doing, that things would be okay, and that he loved me. Then he left to run an errand that prompted the search for the wallet in the first place.

I changed over the laundry and started dinner while confessing, via phone, the sin I had committed to my mom. Mid confession we were interrupted by the beep of call waiting- it was Richard inviting me out to dinner. Well, I figured that even sinners have to eat, so I readily accepted and ended up at Magleby's where we had a lovely dinner complete with creme brulee for dessert.

Now he could have been upset and ranted and raved, or worse, given me the silent treatment, which only would've have amplified the horrific failure I already felt that I was, but he didn't. Instead, we had an amazing evening. He felt bad that I felt bad. He realized that a true mistake was made and that true remorse was felt. And it was enough.

It may not be enough to pay his corporate card, but we'll worry about that when the bill comes. But for now, it is still enough.