My Belt Left Me Bereft

Curiouser and curiouser!

Being that I finally am in one place for more than one night, yesterday I was finally able to unpack the majority of my suitcases.

I must confess that prior to this I have been - yes, shamefully - essentially wearing the same four outfits over and over again. It's really not a big deal. Everyone in Israel wears jeans every day.

(Please do not disclose this to ANYONE! I have a reputation to uphold, after all.)

Where were we? Ah, yes. So one of the things I unpacked was my prized collection of belts. I decided to wear my current favorite - a Forever 21 number in stretchy, studded black fabric - that very day.

I sashayed over to ulpan with it clipped around my new sweater with drapey sleeves. I patted it comfortingly a number of times throughout the morning. Around 11:07am (I remember the exact moment! Horrors!) I suddenly realized that my belt was no longer on my person!!

What had happened?? I surmised that it was clipped on tenuously and had fallen off somewhere. Oh, the worry! I dashed out of class and was so relieved to find it laying in a snake-like heap under a chair in the nearby lobby.

I re-secured it, making sure it was well on, and continued with my day, trying to forget the trauma.

That evening, I went out to dinner at one of the cafes lining Rechov Emek Refaim (and had a very odd salad, might I add). Oh, I had myself a fabulous time. After I returned home, I was straightening up my new sublet, feeling rather content with myself, when I suddenly realized - gasp! - I was no longer wearing my belt!!

Yes, it had disappeared for the second time that day.

I had either lost it in my friend's car, in the restaurant, or it was gone forever.

For a moment, I was devastated by the third possibility, but then realized that I didn't really want a belt that was just not that into me.

Still, I argued with myself, I wasn't sure of the belt's motivation. So like a teenage girl with a lovesick crush, I called my friend to inquire: Might he have found a belt in his car?

He hesitated for a moment, perhaps pondering what kind of pills I was on and where he could get some, but finally responded that sadly, no, he had not.

Strike one!

Yet I persevered. Today, on the way home from ulpan, I walked (beltlessly) by the restaurant and asked in Hebrew (probably making the whole exchange sound ever more bizarre) whether they had found a belt under my table, around the bar or elsewhere? I could barely look at them, so shamed was I by my request.

They HAD!

I was so happy to see my belt again that I flew into a state of bliss.

However, now that I've had some time to think, I'm wondering:

• Just why did my belt run away from me twice?
• Was it unhappy to be found?

AND

• Has it found another girl it likes better than me? (Is she Israeli? Is she Belgian? Oh, I'm torturing myself.)
• Was my belt, in fact, planning to rednezvous with Giveret X at the Restaurant of Broken Dreams (and Belts)??
  

My belt aint talking. I'm holding on to it, for now. But I have banished it to the deepest depths of my belt drawer. My new favorite doesn't just clip, it has a fastener. And it's not going anywhere.