Yellow Card, Red Card

I need to read an article.
It is on reserve.
I tried to be proactive. I tried to be keen.
I tried to read this article on Friday. The article was missing a page. The copies had been pulled.
Yes, of course.
Peter and I drove around the bay on Saturday.
I was wearing a newly acquired pair of dad's slacks. That's what they were; slacks.
With gaping pockets.
Before we were passed Donavan's Industrial Park I had misplaced both my MUN i.d. and my bank card.
I had these cards loose in my front pocket because my wallet has been too fat as of late.
They say it can lead to back problems, having an overtly massive wallet.
Back problems at 30. Due to a wallet stuffed with random e-mail addresses and coffee cards and no money.
No thanks.
So, the wallet has been temporarily retired. I carry my MUN i.d. and my bank card because they are central to my daily survival.
This is foreshadowing.
Today, I want to read the article.
I cannot take out a reserve article without my MUN i.d.. It costs $15 to replace a MUN i.d., which I cannot afford because I have also lost my bank card.
Three hours between classes.
I drive to the bank.
And I wouldn't even mind, if the dawning occured sooner.
It doesn't dawn on me during the drive. It doesn't dawn on me while I park. It dawns on me the instant my hand touches the car door handle.
After I've burned the greatest possible amount of gasoline.
I can't get a replacement bank card because I do not have any proper identification because I have temporarily retired my wallet because I do not want to give my future self back problems without even doing actual, physical labour.
I could swindle the bank staff if I had a student i.d., even, but then...
I cannot read my journal article.
Because I am a percentage of a human being.