And that’s how you have your car stolen…

Our car was stolen last night, right from our driveway.  The theiving bastards took it right from our freaking driveway!!!  Our driveway!!!  We were violated!!!  Except we weren’t.  And it wasn’t.  And they didn’t.

I had driven the car to the theatre downtown for rehearsal and then walked home, having forgotten that I’d driven there.  But for that brief moment before I could tell David that I had taken it to the theatre and forgotten I had taken it – our car had been stolen.  That 15 seconds of panic was a helluva kickstart to our day, I’ll tell you.

“I’m sorry!!”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry!!!”

“It’s okay, I’ll call Shawn and tell him I’ll be a few more minutes.”  (David carpools with another dude named Shawn.)

“I’M SOOOOOOOOOO SORRY!!!!”  

“The PANIC is strong with this one.”

Whereupon, he took my face in his hands.  “Heather.  Heather.  Look at me.”

“I SUCK!”

“HEATHER.  IT.  IS. OKAY.” 

The problem is, we live about a 6 minute walk from the theatre
downtown.  Hence, I rarely drive down there. I usually walk.  I take pride in my walking.  I scoff at people who drive instead of walking the 6 minutes.  But last night I had a
shitload of costumes I had to take in which I didn’t want to carry
over my arms as I walked, on account of my stupid Super Spinatus injury, so I drove.  And then I completely spaced out
that I’d taken the car and blithely walked home at the end of the night.  My route home doesn’t take me past our driveway, so not having the car parked in the driveway couldn’t have even jogged my memory.  I was completely clueless.

Has it really come to this?  Am I now losing cars?  We’re so screwed.  It’s time for dementia testing.  Rule of thumb: If you forget where you put your car, that’s forgetfulness.  If you forget what car does, that’s dementia.  (pause)  Nope, we’re good.