But, who hasn’t, right? That, or maybe we’re just figuring out something most of you have already assumed about my family for some time now.
We’ve lost it.
Here’s the short version: Said family was set to head downtown to High Velocity inside the new JW Marriott for a WFMS pre-party prior to the Colts game. Said family’s husband was running errands, and rather than come all the way home, he suggested we meet somewhere half-way and drop off his car, so said family could ride in one vehicle. Said husband’s wife agreed this was a reasonable, though they aren’t always, idea. Following the party, said family buckles up for a safe ride home, commenting on how A)tired they are B)the onion rings rocked and C)they shouldn’t have eaten the onion rings. Said family’s home, a good 35 minutes from downtown Indy, is a welcome sight to two tired and cranky boys who needed to be tucked in to bed, well, yesterday.
That’s when said family realized they forgot to pick up said husband’s car where they had parked it 3 hours earlier. And there they sat, mouths open, staring at an empty garage.
Said family agreed they are dorks.
And so it goes.