Lost and found

Last Thursday morning, I went outside to get in my car, drive to work, nothing strange. However, my car wasn't there. Nope. I wandered all over the parking lot--no Miracle Machine. Poof--vanished into thin air.

It was slow sinking in--my car had been stolen.

So I called 911. I mean, I realize it's not exactly a life-threatening emergency, but I was fed up, what with my car having been broken into twice before. Can't the police patrol our area more? It's not like that much goes on in Murray City in the wee hours of the morn, you know.

Yeah. Police come, case number issued, I call Melanie at the dentist: "Yoah cah got stoahin?" (Poor thing was having a cavity filled.) (Actually, that's an exaggeration, but you catch my drift.) She comes home, gives me her car, I drive down to P-Town.

At 1:30am on Monday morning, a plain-clothes policeman found it in Midvale--with $2,000 worth of damage on it. Alas, what was lost now is found.