The petty cash problem

I discovered with horror the other day that the petty cash was short by R 100. I had been guarding that box with my life (trying to anyway), and had been very careful when giving out money. I couldn't imagine that any of my colleagues had taken it. Not the thought that I might have to pay in that R 100, but the fact that, on my watch, something had gone missing scared and upset me most. I kept looking at my colleagues, wondering whether one of them might be the guilty one. My manager decided not to say anything, fearing that an air of mistrust would invade and grip the hearts of my colleagues. We have decided, instead, to wait until payday, and see whether the thief develops a conscience. I keep trying to recall whether I ever left the petty cash box open and unattended, but the many memories I have about the petty cash box all seem to swim into one, big, unclear mush of memory. Maybe it was one of the cleaners? Maybe I forgot to enter one of the expenditures in the spread sheet? Maybe I miscounted... But I checked a hundred times!

At the moment I am spending most of my waking hours thinking about the Harry Potter book I just finished (can you believe Dumbledore died?!), my husband's birthday coming up, what I will be blogging about, what we should have for dinner tonight, and my petty cash problem.