2/3/2000 2000hrs

Having fed the kid and myself and loaded the dishwasher, parked myself in front of the TV.

2010hrs

Found two VCR tapes that had to be returned that evening.

2020hrs

Walked out the door with black parka on muttering #%$^#% to myself and the universe at large.

2022hrs

The jeep is not in its accustomed place at the top of the driveway, proceeded to slide my way down to the bottom parking area around the back of the house.

2023hrs

No Jeep. Walk around the house 3 times (deosil) to make sure that it won't miraculously reappear, as sometimes happens with my glasses, shoe, pen, etc.

2030hrs

Check adjacent houses to reassure myself that I didn't, perhaps, get confused and park it in the wrong driveway. (This happened ONE time, many years ago, after a Christmas party - and my wife happens to believe that it's her primary duty in life to remind me of this at regular intervals.)

2035hrs

The realization that my car has been stolen finally meanders to my brain, in its own good time.

2040hrs

Check on the 15yr old to make sure he isn't at this very moment, putting Dad's neat Jeep through it's paces in an empty lot. Practicing his 4wd handling skills in the hope that he may have access to it when he's actually old enough to drive it legally.

2045hrs

Realize my car key is missing from my keyring. Magical stuff is happening here.

2050hrs

Remember that the last time I saw the key, was when I handed it to my mechanic at 9am, to change the oil.

2051hrs

Jog the half mile to the garage in a snowstorm in a black parka, at night, not forgetting to do my 'deer in the headlights' shtick as drivers whiz by with horrified looks on their faces as I appear out of the snow and darkness. (Note to local PD - expect many reported Yeti sightings tonight)

2105hrs

Arrive at the garage, wheezing and puffing, with my eyes bugging out from the near death experiences, and plead with the mechanic, 'Duke' (6'2", 235, pony tail down to mid back) to reopen the door so I could ransom the jeep. {All the while keeping your body between his car, and the roadway he is trying to get to.}

2107hrs

Realizing that he would literally have to run over me to escape, he relents, and goes for the keys, with me in his wake, babbling my tale of woe. I pay him and he hands me my keys with a concerned look, wondering if I would like him to follow me home, lest I become 'confused' in the snow and drive into the river. Walk out, forgetting to pick up the change on the counter.

2112hrs

Arrive home, sliding down the driveway to more or less your assigned parking place in the rear. Struggle up the glacier that has apparently taken over your driveway for the remainder of the winter. Ring your own doorbell to 'bug' your dog, shrug off the parka, take off your boots, loosen your pants, light your pipe, turn on the TV with a contented sigh.

2130hrs

Wife comes home, heats dinner in the microwave, proceeds to tell me of every interesting person that came into the store today, what they bought and how much it cost, what they were wearing, etc. And, just as my eyes are closing, and I'm beginning to doze, she looks down at the coffee table and utters the unimaginable...

"Honey? Aren't those VCR tapes supposed to go back tonight??"