Lost and Found

Yesterday, the cook at Tea Gschwender decided to give me a tiny jar of jam.
This morning, I hunted through purse and jacket pockets. No jam. I felt a bit sad. And hoped that the cook wouldn't be offended that I'd left the jam behind.
Tonight, rooting around in the zippered case that I use for a wallet, in search of my employee ID and charge card to buy something at work, there it was. A little jar nestled in the corner of the leather case.

"I found my jam!" I exclaimed. My assistant manager looked at me. Then laughed. Then laughed some more.

The mind works in mysterious ways. I guess I put it there to keep it safe. Now, if I'd stopped at a gas station with pumps and a toaster, I'd be all set.