Somewhere, out there, there could be another person masquerading as me.

I seem to have lost my wallet. Now, hopefully, it's just in one of my daughter's many purses and she felt the need to acquire real cards for the real world. But, if it's really gone, there's something kind of 'freeing' about it.

Yeah, it will be a pain to replace my driver's license, health cards, etc., but luckily, all my financial stuff I carry separately and is accounted for. The majority of the cards is just those that are given out for being a regular customer (like Blockbuster, my other video rental places, and Shopper's Drug Mart Optimum cards.) I have a status card in there, though, and that's harder to replace. (I have to go up to my reserve, do the whole picture thing, arrange for an appointment.) It's the driver's license, birth certificate and SIN cards that are more problematic and potentially hazardous. I don't know how much damage can be done to my credit rating, but if I leave that real problems out of the equation, not having these cards are a bit of a relief.

I hate the fact that I'm supposed to carry this stuff everywhere. I hate being an adult who needs these things to prove my existence and membership of society. I often think it would be great to be totally anonymous. No records, no proof, and no knowledge of my being here is actually a welcomed idea, from time to time. I hate the idea that anyone can create havoc with these little pieces of plastic, hate being responsible for someone else's abuse of my things.

In contrast,I hate being thought of as a just a number. Just a mass of digits that represents an ideal way to track me. I hate that my idiocy as a teenager has severely impacted my future as an adult. In regards to my status card, however, I am pretty proud in some ways, and just as conflicted as others. Not many are able to say that they are part of the few who have come so far. Yet having it, also shows a great degree of separation and is a continual reminder of the loss experienced by my ancestors.

Just things I am thinking about, before I start to enter the danger zone: my daughter's bedroom, where all this stuff probably is.