The American Dream features five cars in the driveway. Sometimes it's a highly choreographed event when someone who is in position one wants to leave the abode. Sometimes if TOTT is parked behind me I will not waste a second and take his car instead of mine. Nothing gets between me and five minutes of alone grocery shopping! His car is always cleaner - one of the perks of not carrying someone under age three on the regular - and it features great music which only adds to the allure of a short vacation trip to pick up goodies.
Where the eff did I park my car?
I wander about the parking lot nonchalantly pushing the cart up and down the rows of parked cars looking for my little Honda. Looking left and right before I remember I took TOTT's car! In the immortal words of Homer: D'oh! (of The Simpsons, natch. Not The Odyssey) The next step is to wrack my mommy addled brain to remember what TOTT's (clean) Camry looks like, invariably approaching one that is decidedly NOT his.
*sidenote: my apologies to the nice woman who was chatting on her phone, minding her own business while sitting in her Camry in the Giant parking lot. Sorry I scared the bejeezuz out of you when I tried to put my groceries in the trunk of your car. Also, awesome collection of beanie babies you've got in the back window. Those things are so au currant.
Finally, and embarrassingly, I find TOTT's car and collapse into it. Sitting for just a few extra moments enjoying the solitude (read: triumph of having found the car). I might even sneak a few minutes of Wait Wait Don't Tell Me.
And maybe, just maybe I might make a blog note or two on ye olde iPhone Notepad. Multitasking brilliance right there.
See? Scatterbrained about some things. Brill about others. It's all about balance people.