>> >>Several days ago as I left a meeting at a hotel; I desperately gave myself a personal TSA pat down. I was looking for my 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 husband has scolded me many times for leaving the keys in the ignition. >>  >>My theory is the ignition is the best place not to lose them. His theory is that the car will be stolen. >>  >>As I burst through the door, I came to a terrifying conclusion. His 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, "Honey," I stammered; I always call him "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 his voice. He barked, "I dropped you off!" >>  >>Now it was my time to be silent. Embarrassed, I said, "Well, come and get me." >>  >>He retorted, "I will, as soon as I convince this policeman I have not stolen your car." >>  >>Yep, it's the golden years. >> >> >> >  >  >