Those of us who have had them in the past know all too well that something utterly insignificant in the grand order of things can launch a low-level sometimes not so low panic attack.
For some reason, one of these hit me in the shower this morning, while I was reflecting on the contents of my wallet, such as they are. And while I was running down the list, inevitably I came to “driver’s license,” and, hmmm, when does it expire? “July ’07,” I said to myself.
Came back a voice from nowhere: “Are you sure?”
I wasn’t sure. I cut the ablutions short by about a minute, toweled off, and dashed into the bedroom to see when in fact the license expires.
Which is, of course, July ’07.
I spent the next few minutes alternating between getting dressed and berating myself for being such a [fill in suitable pejorative noun].