There was something I really, really needed to pay. And it had to be paid via check, via snail mail. No problem. But for some reason, I kept slacking. And slacking. And slacking.

So finally, I wrote the check. Hooray! Ready to mail it in the morning!

The next day, on my way to work, I dropped the envelope in the mailbox, sealed, and went about my day.

When I got home, my dad took something off the kitchen table and showed it to me. My check.

Apparently my little brother had found it on the floor right outside my bedroom... it had fallen out of the envelope before I sealed it. *facepalm* And THEN, my dad had picked it up from the table, thinking it was HIS check, and he had tried to cash it that afternoon. Not that the teller let him get away with it, of course. Double facepalm.

So the place that needed my check was going to get an blank envelope with a piece of paper that said I was sending them money. Only, there was no money for them in that envelope. How embarassing.

Later that night, as I worked off my embarrassment with a friend, I realized that I'd never put a stamp on the envelope, either.

Triple facepalm.