The Passage of Time OR Another Sign of Old Age

I finally went to the bank this morning to report my lost check card. I've been putting it off for a couple of weeks hoping the card would jump out of the woodwork or something. In my efforts to locate it, I've moved everything in the house at least once. Before going to the bank, I spent half an hour searching the car. I found an old appointment card, two pens, a pencil, a paint brush and three cashews but no bank card. When I got to the bank with that woe-is-me-look on my face, a teller with a chair in front of her station offered to help. I collapsed in the chair and confessed to losing my card. She was very kind and processed all the necessary paper without smirking once. She didn't say one thing about old people losing things. I was impressed. Or whatever.