As if you needed it: More proof I am an idiot.

Saturday afternoon was lovely wasn't it? Mrs C and I were out on Reading's west shore, and enjoyed lunch at one of our favorites, BUCA! Buca di Beppo!
We were having a rather happy day. after lunch, I dropped her at Target, pronounced by in the know shoppers as "Tar- shay" and headed over to the nearby WaWa to get fuel for "Ruby" my Red Vue. (That's WaWa, pronounced WAH-WAH)
That's when my idiocy once again reared it's great big, over sized head. I had lost the keys to the gas cap. They weren't anywhere in the car, and not where I usually kept them. Even worse, we were a good thirty miles from home, and the little blinking, "You are almost out of fuel, dumb ass!" warning light and noise had been going off.
So what's a guy to do?
Panic? Start cussing and creating new words?

No.

I am Chris Casey, thinking man, and I did something smart. I went back to Target, (pronounced Tar - shay) and picked up Mrs C. Then I drove to the Saturn Dealership a few miles away and explained my situation. With a pair of channel locks, the cap was quickly removed.
(Hey I lost the keys, it had to be done.) I drove to another Wawa less than a mile away, and saved the day.

Now after all that, you might ask, "But Chris, what about this makes you an idiot?"

Most people would keep the keys to their gas cap on the ring with their ignition key, but not me, no, I had to keep it hid in the car, or at least I thought I did. God knows where the hell the key went. Not only that, I kept both copies of the key together.

Go ahead, give it to me: DUH!

Mrs C will tell you, that in our home, at the kitchen door to the garage, there hangs a basket. That basket is for all the keys. Mrs C can always find HER Keys, but me?

There's a game I play often in our house, and has a very simple title:

"WHERE THE HELL ARE MY KEYS?"

I am dumber than a box of rocks sometimes, but at least I admit it.