Got a call from a credit card company, saying that my credit card has been found.

“My card? What card?”

“Your Walmart card.”

Walmart? Do I even have a Walmart card? I rifle through my box of neglected mail and bills and other crap and find an envelope from the credit card company. The card is there in the envelope it came in. But wait! Why do I have two, no, make that three, including a highway ETC card? When did I get that? Why, I don’t even drive. And one of them is only used for processing my rent payment (a Japanese thing).

“And how could I lose the card if I never carry it?” I ask absent-mindedly.

“It was found at the XYZ hotel in Okinawa.”

“Oh . . . And?”

“They turned it over to the police, so if you want it back you have to contact them . . .”

“Okay . . .”

I still can't figure out how on earth I could have lost a card I still have, but . . . Hmm.

After hanging up, I check the number I was given to see if it was legit. Yep, it's the Ishikawa Police Department in the town where our hotel is located.

I think about this for a while and go through my bank books to see if I've been billed for something I didn't buy and . . . Nope. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Then it dawns on me that I may have taken an old wallet—which I'm apt to do—that has only a few necessary items in it, such as my gaijin card, insurance card, a cash card, credit card, and so on. The old credit card must have been tucked inside the wallet and fallen out in the safety deposit box or something.

So odd. It just doesn’t add up. A Walmart card?

At first I thought I was being phished, but the woman from the credit card company didn't ask me for any personal information or credit card details. She wouldn't even give me details about the nature of the card (expiration date, etc.) that had been found.

So, I decide to call the cops in Ishikawa on Tuesday to see if my hunch was right.

Several hours later my wife returns home. I tell her about the call.

“Ah! I was wondering what happened to that card!”

I bang my head against the table. Now I understand. She had the credit card made to get points at the local supermarket, which is a subsidiary of Walmart, and used my name but never told me about. (That qualifies as fraud, doesn’t it? Good thing I love her.)

Later, I went online to double check whether the card had been used, but fortunately it hadn’t. Just to be on the safe side, I had the card replaced.

When we called the Ishikawa Police Department on Tuesday, we learned that my wife had lost some 10 cards in total. Most were point cards for supermarkets and so on.

I said to my wife: “You know, if it had been me who lost all those cards and didn’t realize it for three whole months, you would never let me hear the end of it.”

She apologized sheepishly and I let it slide, as I always do.

And speaking of lost and found . . .

During my walk this morning, I found a briefcase behind the hedge of one of my favorite restaurants.

"Someone has lost their bag," I said to my wife who was a few paces ahead of me. Looking inside, I could see that it was full of documents. There was a wallet, too, chockablock with credit cards and other cards. "The wallet's inside, too."

But, so was a belt. Odd, I thought.

"Maybe we should take it to the police box . . .," I suggested.

Then I noticed a pack of cigarettes a yard a way . . . and a necktie . . . clearly it all belonged to a salaryman who must have been blind drunk last night. He'd be up a creek when he woke and discovered that it was missing, I thought. I know how I'd feel . . . And there in the corner, next to the hedge was a huge, wet turd.

"Ah, Christ! The guy took a dump in the corner!"

My wife let out a little yelp. "Gross! Just leave where it is!"

“I’m not touching the poop!”

“Not the poop. The bag! Leave the bag!”

I couldn't help but agree, the Good Samaritan in me shoved away by the Levite.

I put the bag down and started to walk away. On second thought, I went back and wiped down the places I had touched, such that my prints wouldn't be left. Better safe than sorry, right?

So, if you know anyone who is missing his briefcase and is probably hungover. Tell him I know where he can find it and his "noguso".