The art of losing

Anyone who knew me when I was attending BYU knows that I always joked that I was best friends with the students that worked in the lost and found. If I would lose something as insignificant as a folder or as significant as a credit card or a cell phones, without a doubt I would head to the basement of the wilk, ring the bell and a friendly zoobie would return my property to me. It became a running joke with my roommates about my bestfriendship with the lost and found.
So one might think that once I moved away from Happy Valley to Washington D.C. that my luck wouldn't follow me. That assumption couldn't be further from the truth. I remember the first month I moved out here twice I was walking downtown on my lunch break and somehow my credit card fell out of my pocket or purse and onto the sidewalk. And both times I had on my headphones and was chased down by some good Samaritan who returned it to me.
Since those first few incidents, I have been more careful, but on multiple occasions I have left my ipod in the gym locker room at work and it was always returned to me. But this last month has been particularly difficult for me to keep track of my stuff. However, to date I have only lost what was stolen from me in Costa Rica. I have left the following items:

• In New York I left my credit card at the register and it was kindly returned to me
• In another restaurant in New York I left my camera on the table after we left and the waiter chased us down
• I dropped some tickets from my purse in the metro station and some lady chased me down and ran up the escalator to return them to me
• Last week there was a banging on our door at 11:30 pm and Jeanette answered it and it was someone in our neighborhood returning my wallet that had been lying in the road for a couple of hours

My favorite DC story actually happened last year. I was going to "the melrose" to visit some friends and watch the office when I tripped and fell pretty bad on the sidewalk. All my belongings went flying and I thought I had gathered everything. However, as I was being bandaged up by Doctor Tina there was a knock on the door and some lady was there and she was returning my wallet. How did she know where to find me in a large apartment complex? My BYU ID, she knew Mormons lived where I was and assumed I was there.

Brilliant. I may lose a lot of things, but they always come back to me. And BYU, I thank you for that.