This morning I was leaving my house to drive to dance class and my car wasn’t there. I checked our outdoor spot, then our indoor spot (we have two!) and nothing. I called Matt to tell him the car was missing.
“Let me look one more time,” I said.
“It’s kind of hard to miss a car in a parking spot,” Matt replied.
After all this time I’m flattered he would give me so much credit.
I went outside again. Nothing.
Some bastard had sauntered right into my alley and stolen my car! Damn him. Or her. (I believe in thief gender equality.)
And then I remembered. Yesterday I drove to get a wax because it was the last on my list of errands. I never drive to the wax place, so by the time my appointment was over I forgot I’d driven and walked home.
This story has…
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