The Golden Years

As I left a meeting at a local hotel, I desperately gave myself a personal TSA pat down. I was looking for my car keys. They were not in my pockets. A quick search in the meeting room revealed nothing. Suddenly I realized I must have left them in the car. Frantically, I headed for the parking lot. My wife has scolded me many times for leaving the keys in the ignition but my theory is the ignition is the best place not to lose them. Her theory is that the car will be stolen. As I burst through the door, I came to a terrifying conclusion. Her theory was right. The parking lot was empty. I immediately called the police. I gave them my location, confessed that I had left my keys in the car, and that it had been stolen. Then I made the most difficult call of all, (after waiting some time to compose myself). “Honey,” I stammered; I always call her “honey” in times like these. “I left my keys in the car, and it has been stolen.” There was a period of silence. I thought the call had been dropped, but then I heard her voice. “Idiot,” she barked, “I dropped you off!” Now it was my time to be silent. Embarrassed, I said, “Well, come and get me.” She retorted, “I will, as soon as I convince this policeman I have not stolen your car.” Yep it’s the golden years. via