Why, No, I Don't Want Extra Excitement with That, Thanks

I paid a couple of bills this morning, then collected a few checks that had come in for deposit--about $2K worth. While I was heading out the door with them and a letter to mail, I got a text from Sarcasm Girl which turned into a flurry of texts, all while I was turning on the alarm and locking up the house. Got down to the end of the block and realized: I didn't have the checks. Not in my hand, where they had been, folded up next to the letter. Not in my pockets (coat or jeans). Maybe I dropped them? I limped up and down the street scanning for bits of paper. Nothing. I went back into the house and checked every place I could think of, even rooms I hadn't been in that morning (hey, I've been rewatching The X-Files. It could be aliens.) Nothing. Did all the searching inside and out all over again. Nothing. Finally, called the people from whence the money came and asked them to please stop payment and reissue.

Half an hour later a neighbor calls: she's found the checks. I limp down the street and get them. Then I call to see if I can get the Stop Payment, um, stopped. No, they've already been called in. I sigh.

Then someone calls from the same office: she's going to call the bank and see if they can unring that bell. Half an hour later she calls up: mission accomplished. The checks are viable. With them clutched in my hand I limp off merrily to the bank and deposit them before they have time to get up to more mischief.

I think I may need to lie down now.