It Was In My Wallet The Whole Fucking Time

Alright, over the past day or so I have seen and done things which, upon further reflection, makes me want to drive my head into a brick wall, repeatedly.  The absolutely stupidity of all that is that shameful to me.

I think I've got a few such instances to make blog posts from, and hopefully, I'll remember to do them all.  (And if I don't, that's another reason to hate myself.)  But I'll start with, I think, the shortest story.  I had a hankering to go to Raising Cane's yesterday/Saturday afternoon because I was somewhat close by and, well, I wanted to.  But when I went (I went to a cemetery beforehand and went to my storage unit afterward), I realized I didn't have my rewards card.  I thought I could just give the person my phone number to input in; I mean, you can do that at Caribou.  But I couldn't do it at Raising Cane's.  Fine; maybe I'll be able to input my receipt once I get home and get into my account.

Today, I realized something really, really simple and stupid: I didn't even open my wallet to look for my Club Caniac Card when I was thinking I didn't have it in there.  I assumed it was in another spot, and I forgot to check that spot before I left, and so I just, well, didn't think to look.  And before I left today, I thought to just search through my wallet.  And boom, there it was, my Club Caniac Card, in my wallet.

And by the way, Raising Cane's won't let you put in your receipt after the fact.  Goddamn, I hate myself right now.