I walked into the kitchen to see Rick spreading out a bunch of papers and stuff on the table. "What the heck is all that crap?" I asked. He turned around, rueful expression on his face, doom in his voice. "My wallet got all wet while I was up on the roof helping Butch tarp it up. I think I'm gonna need a new one."
Immediately, I grasped the gravity of the situation. This was big. "Oh, no!" I said, sympathetically. "Wow. I mean--"
"Yeah, I know," he said tragically, surveying the damage to his black bifold. "But I just don't think it's gonna be the same. And it was bad to begin with. You knew that."
I sighed. "Geeze. Getting a new wallet is huge. If you can't find the exact same one, it's traumatic. It's like committing to a whole new lifestyle. If the credit card storage isn't horizontal, you have to get used to vertical. Once you're a bifold guy, you don't go trifold. You--"
"Hey! I'm no trifold guy! You know that!" Rick said. "I'm bifold now, all the way. Thinner, more lightweight. And now, I've gotten used to the flip-up ID thingy as a separate flap. The new wallet's gotta have that. One side for the ID; other side for the medical cards. That's non-negotiable. And black. Black wallet. Not brown."
"I'm all over it," I said. "Remember, you're talking to the Connoisseur of Purses here. No one is pickier about her purses than I am. Has to be leather; has to have a shoulder strap; cannot have any inside dividers; cannot have more than one fastener; the shoulder strap cannot be so short as to have the purse graze my elbow when I sling it on one-handed; the shoulder strap cannot be so long as to have the purse ride below my hipbone; the purse cannot cost more than fifty dollars. The only people who can stand to purse shop with me are you and Leanne, and I am not entirely sure that even Leanne can stand it anymore."
"I'm not even sure I can stand it," Rick muttered.
"Watch it, buddy," I said, "or you'll be shopping for your wallet by yourself."
Later, Jared joined us. "What's up with Dad's crap all over the kitchen table?" he asked cheerfully.
"Dad's wallet got wet and now he has to get a new one," I intoned dreadfully, searching his face for a reaction.
"Oh, man!" Jared said. "That sucks! A new wallet! Remember how hard it was to find me a new wallet, Mom? We went to how many stores until we found the exact one? Man! I'd rather go with no wallet than have to get used to a new wallet."
This was too good to pass up. "Hey, Jared," I said. "You go for the bifold, too, right? Like Dad?"
"NO. Trifold, Mom. TRIFOLD! The trifold is the way to go, Dad. Smaller, more compact. Bam! Everything right there. Your bills don't fold up in half when you take them out and put them on the counter. And the credit cards have to be on the left. Bifolds are shit, Dad. Geeze. The bifold. Come on. And brown. The brown wallet. Not black. What are you, a biker?"
Sam wandered in and I couldn't resist. Sam, the most fashionable member of the Dept. Men, was definitely going to have to weigh in. "Sam, what about your wallet?," I asked.
"What about it?" he asked. "I've had the same wallet for about 8 years. Brett left it over here and I just started using it. Come to think of it, I need a new wallet. Yeah, I should probably get one."
"What kind will you get? How about a nylon one? Doesn't anyone like one of those? They're supposed to be hardest to steal. With velcro," I added.
They all looked at me, pityingly. "Mom," Sam said. "How old are we, like 8?"
