Sir? May I see your license, please?

As the line at the audiologist’s office began to grow behind me, I fished through my wallet looking for my driver’s license with the frustration and disbelief that only those who are OCD enjoy.

It wasn’t there.

I almost never lose anything.

I looked again. Nope.

“Ma’am, it’s not here. I’ve misplaced it,” I said, refusing to believe I had actually lost it.

Fortunately, coughing up a co-pay and an alternative form of ID got me in.

I flunked my ...