I popped into town this afternoon, and called DH to say I had to go to the bank, did he need anything, blah blah blah.
I have a notoriously bad memory, and coming out of the bank I couldn't find my car, which I was CERTAIN was parked outside. I did goldfish faces for a bit, wandered up and down, then thought, no, it's definitely gone.
Our local police unit is just down the street, so I wandered along there, calling DH first to tell him that someone had obviously stolen our skip on wheels car.
"You've forgotten where you've parked it again" says he.
"Splutter, indignant squawking, not likely" say I.
"You've done it before" he intones with a note of censure.
"I'm losing my mind" I acknowledge.
"Have another look" says he.
The bastard merry little joker was driving it towards me, grinning from ear to ear. He'd passed the car in town, moved it, and watched me to make sure I didn't call or visit the police.
This cannot go unavenged - I was convinced someone had made off with my glovebox stash of treacle toffee.