Wilbo forgets his wallet at home and drives home at lunch to fetch it.

I get lost in thought. My problem is not so much memory loss as attention deficit. It's as if the computer that is my brain was given a processing job years ago and I continue to allow it to run with unlimited time and infinite resources. So I was thinking hard when I set off for work and I forgot to pick my leather wallet out of its drawer. When I slapped my back pocket getting up from the office desk, as I always do being on automatic, the pocket felt loose. I thought about driving home in a panic, risking a pull over by Norton Shore's finest with no id,  but I knew exactly where it awaited, safely.

It's an ugly old wallet, but I keep it full of fresh cash. Someday, a cellphone will make it obsolete.