Identity Confusion

Apparently, I am suffering, not from identity theft, but from identity confusion.
I went to my bank last week to do some personal banking.
When my banker, Abe, asked me to sign something I noticed my social securitynumber was incorrect.
Two tedious—but not unpleasant (thanks, Abe!)–hours later
we determined that somehow
my son’s social security number got mixed up with mine.
All my banking, mortgage, credit reports, etc., seem to be in my name with my son’s social security number.
This is good news only because I am pretty sure I can stick him with the mortgage.
But then, he will probably also want the house.
No one knows how this happened or when,
only that I need to make many, many phone calls and provide many, many forms of identification and contact many, many financial institutions to get this straightened out.
My daughter declared that I have effectively stolen my own identity.
I like this.
“Take that, bad guys, beat you to it.”
Nothing criminal happened, I remind myself frequently throughout the process.
And, what an opportunity to get all my financial affairs in order while I methodically prove I am exactly who I have been all along.

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