I'm selling my shoes at an indoor neighborhood swap. It's time to leave and I forget my purse. (Put that aside for a moment; we'll get back to it.) My grandparents, mother, and I get into a very modern, mass-produced-looking spaceship and fly to another planet. I look out through the sunroof and see that we're approaching a lovely, perfectly round ball of orange light. We arrive at what seems to be my grandparents' condo, a cozy space obviously created with the future in mind, despite the lack of obvious futuristic technology like the Jetsons had. The condo's designer was clear about where he or she was building, but there are no signs of robots or automatic whatsits. There are nooks with rows of bookshelves and a tiny opening to a rather large bedroom with minimal furniture. Everything is white, but I can see a few glimpses of my grandmother's feminine style on the countertops and in the fabrics.
Once we've settled, I find out that someone has taken my abandoned purse and stolen my identity. I can get on the computer and watch a young woman spend my money. She spends thousands of dollars on flowers. I can't stop crying and spend my entire vacation on another planet trying to get the fraud department to shut down my credit cards. I can feel that my family is annoyed with me; they think I'm being dramatic. This hurts.