it never happens to you

You think that these things never happen to you. In fact your positively sure that they don't. Its just something that won't occur, you're simply not that person.
But then it does. And you think, how could you have been so unbelievably stupid to let that happen.
Back in the little child days when you're first given money that is not actually a piece of shrapnel weighing you down in your denim overalls, when you're mother hands over that valuable piece of paper and lectures you on how you need to put it somewhere safe, and make sure you always know where it is, being careful not to put it somewhere where it could get lost of fall out.
And you look up at your mother oh-so seriously and give a solemn nod before skipping out the door, reciting every word she's just told you.
You have a decent amount of money and you're going to treasure it with your life. It's simply a lesson you never forget.

You've grown up now, and that first lecture never leaves, its always there lingering around the back passageways of your mind. And just for the sake of going through the motions, you wonder about how annoying and devastating it would be if that situation actually happened to you, if you actually lost that money. But you shrug it off because it won't happen, it is simply just something that does not happen to you. No way.
Except apparently it does. Apparently you are that person to which it happens.
Being given a whole bunch of notes and a various collection of coins the other day to fetch lunch for everyone at work, i set off down the street, confident as all, strutting down the street in my Ray Ban sunnies with money stuffed into the small pockets of my denim shorts.
And it's when i reach the burger joint, all the way down the opposite end of the street, that my heart drops and my breath is caught in my throat because half of those notes are gone.
Missing.
Disappeared.
A frantic search sees me pulling at all the pockets vigourously, desperately trying to find some sort of rational explanation. There isn't one. The lady behind the counter offers a sympathetic yet really somewhat uncaring look before i dash out in a frantic searc h for the lost money.
Well you're not going to find it, because it has happened to you.
it never happens to anyone, more so it never happens to you, because you're simply not that person.

But clearly I'm much more of that person than i ever thought.
Not only do i lose $40 on a lunch run, but the previous day I find my bus pass is not in the bottomless pocket where it's supposed to be.
So i've lost that costly bit of cardboard a couple of times (yes i do have to pay for my busspass thank you very much), but that's normal right?
Wrong. Losing it twice a year is not normal. Having it lost to the point where randoms find it on the street and are nice enough to send it into the school 3 times is not normal.
Because clearly I am that person. I've lost it again and im pretty sure that my luck has just run out.
Evidence? you might ask, although I don't know why you would. Well just wait, I have it all ready for you.
An art student's art book is their salvation, it is their everything.
And mine is currently most likely sitting at the train station, on the pathway, in some random's house, stuffed in a bin, or waiting faithfully for me in lost property.
Because that one stupid idiot, movie-esque moment happened to me once again.
Sitting waiting for a lift, recognising the faithful silver puegot, jumping up, engrossed in the music blaring in your ears, and the artbook sits there, all alone on the concrete slab outside the station.
And when do i notice? Not straight away, but this morning as im rushing out the door and wondering why my art book isn't where i left it. Well it probably is where you left it, its just that you're a ditz who didn't realise she was leaving it where it was.
Who even does that ? !