Murphy's Law

On the way to work today, I decide to stop at Tim Horton's for a coffee. Second in line at the drive through, I am counting out the change for my order, hurriedly exchanging as much of the larger coin for pennies and nickels as I can. Small change accumulating in my purse and in jars and drawers just makes me crazy, why not use it and eliminate some clutter.

For some reason I seem to think that the woman ahead of me has driven off and in a moment of distraction, numbers running through my head, I push on the gas pedal. Unfortunately, the woman and her car are still there and now my car is on top of her car. She jumps out to see if she still has a bumper. Thankfully, yes, and there is no damage. She gets back in and drives off. Meanwhile, I am cursing myself for being such a damn idiot! (Oddly enough this has happened before. I drove into someone else at a yield sign at a bridge on my way to choir practice and only recently, last year, backed into my girlfriend's Mazda while helping a friend move. With a big load on the back of the truck I honestly did not see her little car!)

I pay for my coffee and find her parked in a stall. I walk up to her window where she is casually eating her lunch. She rolls down the window and I apologize profusely, begging her to forgive me for being such a damn idiot! She is the kindest woman, she smiles saying it's no problem, really. I apologize again and crawl back to the car with my tail between my legs and am off to work, wide-awake.

It should have ended there.

The next thing you know, my work day is done and I am on my way to the car. I arrive at the car only to find that there is no car. Stopping dead in my tracks I scan the parking lot and begin to question my sanity. Woman! Where did you park the car! I circle the parking lot twice and it is nowhere to be found. I call my mother. She thinks I have forgotten where I parked it. Are you sure you actually drove to work today, is it still parked at the house? Yes mom, I am sure. I circle the parking lot again. Have I lost it? My mind? Debateable. The car? Yes. The damn car was stolen.

That's not the worst part.

The car belongs to someone else: the woman I am housesitting for!

OH! MY! GOD!

We call Anna at her hotel, it's 6 AM over in Israel but we needed to get the report rolling. She doesn't remember her license plate number. Despite all the information we have, the police are unable to locate her record in the system without this number as there are 150 other women with the same name! And for some bizarre reason, the plate number is not listed on the insurance papers. 10 o'clock at night, the insurance company is closed, her mechanic is closed, tomorrow's a stat holiday and some bastard has taken her car out for a joy ride. After searching all of the places she had told us to look, we finally found the plate number written on an old ticket and were able to get the car reported. And now we wait to see what happens.

It probably would have been a good day to stay in bed.