In Stephen King novels, people get weird, prickly, unsettling feelings when they walk past the old house (hospital, church, pet cemetery, 7-11, whatever) on the corner in the little town in Maine. For weeks I've had this weird nagging feeling every time I passed the dry cleaner's. To my knowledge, it wasn't haunted or anything, so I couldn't think of why it was bothering me so -- until last night, when I was hanging up clothes. I came to the spot where my husband's suit hangs and... no suit. Suddenly I remembered that I had dropped it off at the dry cleaners -- and I couldn't remember when I'd done it. It wasn't this month... did I do it in February? What about in January? I got a sinking feeling as I mentally started to count days. How long does this dry cleaner let you leave your things there before they start calling up the Goodwill (or firing up their eBay account?)
Of course this inspiration came to me after the shop had closed, so I got to spend all night trying to stop myself from staring at the ceiling and fretting about the suit and how I was going to explain this to my husband. When St Peter exhorted us to "cast our cares upon the Lord" I don't know if he had dry cleaning in mind, but I was doing my best to follow his advice.
Morning came (with a shower of snow) and Hambet and I hurried over to the cleaners. The lady nodded -- oh, yes, yes, they have the suit. The clothes swayed as track started to whir. Yes, they keep things for 90 days. Yes, they would have called me before they got rid of it.
She plucked the suit off the track and hung it on the pole. Today is March 10. The date on the tag -- December 11. Approximately 89 days.
As Robert says, mad props to my Guardian Angel.
Love my Guardian Angel. God is so good to us that he gave us them. Glad to know yours is active.
Isn't God awesome?
I run my poor Guardian Angel ragged, I'm afraid.