I patted my pockets. No keys. Panic set in.
Then it hit me—I must’ve left them in the car!
Heart pounding, I bolted to the parking lot. My husband always scolds me for leaving my keys in the ignition, saying, “One day, someone’s gonna steal that car!”
Well… guess what? He was right.
The car was gone. Vanished.
Frantically, I called the police.
“I left my keys in the car… and now it’s stolen!” I confessed, feeling like the world’s biggest fool.
Then came the hardest call of all—to my husband.
“Honey… I left my keys in the car and—” I took a deep breath. “It’s been stolen.”
Silence.
Long, terrifying silence.
Then, finally, his voice—slow, deliberate, pissed.
“Are. You. KIDDING ME? I DROPPED YOU OFF!!”
My heart stopped.
Oh.
OH.
Now I was the fool.
Embarrassed, I mumbled, “Uh… can you come get me?”
His reply? “Yeah. Just as soon as I convince this cop that I didn’t steal your damn car!”
Ah, the Golden Years. Full of wisdom… and senior moments.
