For instance, last Thursday when I drove up to Taste of China, because I prefer their cream cheese wontons over China Garden’s, I was determined to get out of the car and walk in the door and eat like a king.

Except I had left my wallet at the house.

Which then led me to this realization: I’d not had my wallet with me all day long. I’d driven over a hundred miles to and from work without money, ID, a license, that one piece of Wrigley’s I leave hidden in the pocket behind the checkbook “just in case,” nothing.

I had driven naked, essentially, the entire day. Because without proof of who I am, who am I, in the eyes of the law? I am nothing.

I am the self-appointed King of the Buffet.

I subdued my onset of sudden panic by stating the obvious – I’d made it back home without any emergency. Well, except for the fact that I was hungry and in the mood for Chinese and was in the parking lot, feet away from All I Could Eat of Tofu and Broccoli and Avocado Sushi.

Then, my panic was replaced by sheer anger.

I was so mad at myself because I had, unwittingly, put myself in a dilemma. Do I drag myself through evening traffic to retrieve my wallet, which I was sure that Lazarus, the hell-cat-though-since-entering-her-first-“heat”-has-turned-a-la-angel, had already knocked off the buffet and pulled under the couch to her nesting area where she’s begun collecting the things she kills, be that a wallet or the unfortunate lady bug, an infestation of which appeared overnight, it seems.

Or, do I just go home and cook.

Incidentally, I love to cook. I really do, but there’s just something so American and justified in saying, Not tonight, dear, I have a checkbook.

I drove home, needless to say, and punished myself for forgetting my wallet by staying home and not driving back to the restaurant. However, I forgave myself a few minutes later and ordered in, but still, the sting of my self-imposed punishment lingered well into my Egg Drop Soup.

I wish I knew why I was so rigid in my thinking as regards a simple turning around of the car and going back to get said item, or items.

It has a mind of its own.

But, wherever it came from, it’s deep in there. I’d rather drive off, (foolish, I know), and leave that one suitcase, that book I was wanting to read, the airline tickets, that winter coat despite going to the mountains in the middle of Christmas, or the directions to where I was going in the first place, than to simply stop and go back.

I guess I’m a real boy, after all.

Although, I mean, let’s be honest, a wallet doesn’t really fit in this category of What You Can Get By Without. You need your license. You need your money. And after class, today, I discovered there was something else you also need, according to our Modern Standards of Living: your cell phone.

I admit, wholeheartedly, that there have been two occasions in which I’ve forgotten my cell phone, and I did go back to get it, but in both situations, I’d not even turned out of the driveway.

This is just a slight aggravation. Not a reversal of events.

The student who missed class today, though, informed me that she’d gotten almost to the campus and remembered that she’d left her cell phone charging, and simply had to turn around and get it. I mean, what if she’d had car trouble?? (She’s on the cusp of having missed too much class, so she must have car trouble a lot, which certainly would raise the level of importance of needing a cell phone at all times, right)?

It was hard to argue with such logic other than to point out that being nearly on campus means You’ve practically made it, and will probably be fine!, but then turning around to drive back to get a cell phone on the off chance that you might not have made it, wouldn’t necessarily be the smartest thing to do…regardless of car trouble.

The problem in her logic, I’m afraid, runs a lot deeper than a dead car battery. Per se.

The issue wasn’t that at all, though, in actuality. It dawned on me during her explanation why she’d missed the entire class, which logically would lead you to assume she wouldn’t have risked if she hadn’t lived close by.

Don't leave home without them.

Yet, as is so often the case, logic and the educational system don’t like holding hands; they’re not that big into the PDA.  Especially when coming from the point-of-view of the student.

See, she was a commuter to the campus; she didn’t live in town, it turned out. (Nor do many others, but still). She came to campus only twice a week from a small burp down below Meridian, some tribal church community hidden in Lauderdale County.

Now, let me put that in perspective for those of you not familiar with Mississippi geography, though shame on you, all the same, for not being proficient in it – basically she drives over seventy miles, one way, twice a week, and today, gets nearly to the campus, before deciding she simply had to turn around and drive all the way back to get her precious cell phone.

And, of course, as you could guess, by the time she got to her house and laid hands on the phone (long enough to at least call me and explain herself),  “ the class was over and really what was the point of coming back at all, then?”

 She only had the one class on Mondays.

I told her to talk to me next week; if I had any sympathy to give, it’d be then.

She said, in all sincerity, “But…next week’s Thanksgiving. There are no classes.”

I told her I knew that.

Then, I wished her a good one and said, “Teetle.”

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• It doesn’t matter because we’re eating Chinese food.