I would not do well in the Witness Protection Program

A few days ago I noticed something on my front porch as I pulled into the driveway. Closer inspection revealed a mens wallet. "Ha, ha," I thought. Ryan finally lost his wallet. Made me feel a little better for the dozens of times I've lost mine. But when I went to grab it I quickly noticed that it was not Ryan's. Although it was well worn, there was no identification at all. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

But there was cash. Hundreds of dollars.

Bizzaro, right?

So I did some sleuthing. Also on the porch were some books left by a friend. I called her to ask if she knew anything about the mystery wallet. Nope. It was not there when she had stopped by, only 15 minutes before.

I went next door and asked my neighbor if he knew anything. Nothing.

At this point, weird scenerios are going through my head. I had just heard a piece on This American Life where a couple noticed an unusual car in front of their house in their quiet little neighborhood. They tried to figure out who it belonged to, going as far as opening the door (it was unlocked) and rummaging through the glove compartment. No luck, so they called the police. Turns out, it was a "bait" car for thieves, and through a series of crazy events they ended up arrested, spent a day in jail and had a three year horrible ordeal until they finally went to the media and oops, the police had made a mistake and dropped all the charges.

So, despite my fear that Ira Glass and I may someday have something to talk about, I called the Sandy Police. A nice officer (with a big gun and a big tazer) came to my home, whipped out her spiral bound notebook and started asking me things like, "Exactly what time did you find the wallet," and "Did you see anything else unusual?" 2:33 and no.

She gave me her card with a case number on it and left me alone with my over-active imagination.

Was this a bait wallet? Was Chris Hansen hiding in the bushes, just waiting to see what I would do? Because, seriously, who takes everything from a wallet and leaves the cash. Was it drug money? Was I involved in something shady?

At this point I was a little weirded out, but no big deal. I went upstairs and did some laundry. Ella was wandering around entertaining herself. Suddenly I hear a loud noise, which I think are footsteps, I quickly look for Ella, don't see her, and FREAK out. { If you don't believe me, ask Thayer, who was on the phone with me at the time. She tried to be my calm, but I was beyond her reach.} I'm running around the house, yelling Ella's name, and picturing her abducted by the money-leaving thief.

But, no. She was just playing in the guest bedroom, steps away from the laundry room, a little scared by her crazy mom. Breathe.

I want to go on a walk, but worry that perhaps someone is watching the house (I know, it sounds crazy to me, too, but that's the state I was in), so I went to the Post Office. Because nothing crazy ever goes on there.

Ryan soon came home, and I chilled out. Now I'm just wondering if I get the money if no one claims it. I didn't even think to ask. Too intimidated by the gun.

Moral of the story: if anything freaky ever does happen, heaven help me. I couldn't even handle free money.

Post-edit: Mystery solved. Today my housekeeper Ifeta came by and randomly told me that she'd lost her wallet. A black wallet, no id, with hundreds of dollars in it! She had stopped by my house the day of the fiasco and rummaged through her bag looking for her keys when the wallet must have fallen out.

She explained that she had two wallets: a regular one with all her stuff in it, and this one with only cash. She is saving for a plane ticket to visit her son in Germany this Christmas and this wallet is her piggy bank. She had no hope of finding her stash as it had absolutely no identifying features. So I called the Sandy Police Department and informed them that I had cracked the case.