The most important meal of the day

Sunday morning, as I went to take out some money for offering, I realized that my wallet wasn't in my bag.  I found this disconcerting, since I didn't remember taking it out of my bag the night before, but I wasn't too worried, assuming it was buried somewhere in the mess that is my room.  Based on this assumption and because I had no occasion to buy anything, I didn't think of the wallet's absence for the rest of the day.

Upon waking up Monday morning, I conducted a search of my room, which grew increasingly frantic - my wallet was nowhere to be found.

After an accumulation of unfortunate events and an ongoing bad mood, this was the last thing I needed.  I found myself  alternating between the Nancy Kerrigan "Why me?!" mode and kicking myself for being careless enough to lose a significant (by my standards) amount of money, my driver's license, and bank cards.

By the time I reached work this morning, I had accepted the loss and was somewhat calmed by knowing I had taken care of everything I needed to regarding the contents of the wallet.

With this state of mind, I grabbed my box of Müsli for some breakfast when, lo and behold, there was my wallet!  My precious, heartily-missed wallet - getting all warm and cozy in my box of granola.

I can only assume that when I dropped my wallet into my backpack on Saturday evening, it fell right into the box that was also traveling through Hamburg with me.

Had I taken the time to eat breakfast on Sunday or Monday morning, I could have saved myself a vast amount of mental turmoil and the underserved sympathy from well-wishers.

And what do we learn from this, boys and girls? 
Never, ever, skip breakfast.

I'll never snub you again, my dear friend.