Big Gaping Hole In My Parking Lot

So I head out the door this morning (a little early for once), and I pause when I get to the parking lot. I walk over to my truck, or to the big gaping empty where it usually is.

It's missing.

Vanished.

Absent.

Not there.

Gone.

Unaccounted for.

Devoid of vehicle.


...


I've never had my truck stolen before. Even with the fact that I rarely lock it. It's just always been there. Plus, I live on a pretty good side of Austin. Nothing much but yuppies and young families live in my area.

But still, I feel violated. Not to mention that my LIFE is in the back seat. Bills, correspondence, REAMS of papers for work. Hell, even my company laptop is in there.

So I get on the horn. Thank the deity of your choice that I didn't leave my cell on the charger, as I sometimes do. First call was to APD to file the report. And I'll tell you, there is nothing more pleasant at eight in the morning than a City operator. Anyway, they're sending someone over.
Then I call my office to let them know that I have to wait for an officer to come by and verify that there really isn't a vehicle in the gaping hole. Next call was to State Farm. For some weird reason, the truck being stolen is under my auto policy, but the stuff IN it is under my renter's insurance. Maybe one of you out there could explain that to me. So I get the claims started, and my next call is to ChaCha (Sorry for waking you up). She makes words, I pace a bit. I feel better hearing her voice.

I'm grateful I'm a five minute walk from work. I walk over to get some stuff done I was really supposed to do last night (remember this. It'll be important later). I hoof over, cursing a little because I was going to get coffee and cigs on the way in, and have none of either.

Walking in, I stop off in T's office. He's a car guy, and probably best to sympathize with my morning plight. He's staring aimlessly out the window.

"My truck got stolen."
"What?"
"My. Truck. Got. Stolen. Sometime last night."
He casually leans back and looks out. "The Chevy, right?"
"Yes. Stolen. Truck." (Apparently my language skills have reverted to caveman. Or Republican).
He points out the window. "That truck?"
"..."

You know that feeling that creeps up the back of your neck and digs into your ears when you realize that you've done something really stupid? Yeah, THAT feeling.

Ok, so here's what happened. I had some very time-sensitive stuff yesterday I needed to get done. Around 4:30 I was getting a little hungry, and my plan was to go home, have some dinner, watch some of the Daily Shows I've recorded, then head back at about eight or nine to finish up. Since I was coming back and because it was such a nice day, I walked home. I'd bring the truck back when I was done. It was here all night.

In case you missed it, I even walked by the goddamn thing when I came in.

For the record, the cop laughed at me, EVERYONE at State Farm laughed at me, I get snickers from all at work, and now you have my permission to chuckle at my expense as well.

I've earned it.

Even someone as kickass as me can be a tool sometimes.