It happened again when I went to by the youngest's car. I lost a particular checkbook that I have not written a check out of since my 50th birthday. I know where I always hid it, but then when I went to that spot it was gone. I kind of remember moving it, but not really. A hunt began.
I was pretty excited when I found what I thought was the checkbook. To be sure I called the bank. Turns out it was the old account and only had three cents in it. I am so glad I called. That could have been very bad, but it meant the real checkbook was still missing.
How did I solve the issue? I ordered more checks.
As I was sitting here this morning, I realized that I had seen the new checks come in the mail, but not where I had put them. I had a moment of sheer panic, until I looked over and saw them on the footstool with all the other mail I need to file.
I am now going to get up and put them where I told the family I was going to put them. Surely one of us will remember if I ever need to write a check from there again.
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