The Golden Years

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    Beatrice
    Beatrice
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    Several days ago as I left a meeting I desperately gave myself a personal search. 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 car park. 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 scanned the car park I came to a terrifying conclusion! His theory was right. The car park 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. “Hello My Love”, I stammered; I always call him “My Love” 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 disconnected, 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 bloody car.”

    This is what they call, ” the Golden Years!”

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