(Not my own story, but worth telling, I think...)
Several days ago as I left a meeting at a hotel, I found with increasing desperation that I couldn't find my keys. They weren't in my pockets, nor had I left them in the meeting room.
And then I realised I must have left them in the car. Worried, I headed for the parking lot at the double. My husband has scolded me many times for leaving my keys in the ignition (my theory is that the ignition is the best place not to lose them; his theory is that it's the best way to get the car stolen. Well anyway.)
When I reached the car park I came to the terrifying conclusion that he was right (this time) - the parking lot was empty.
I immediately called the police. I gave them my location and confessed that I had left my keys in the car and that it had been stolen. They took down my details and about the tracker device on the car.
Then came the worst bit, and I must admit I hesitated for a while, pacing up and down and wondering how to tell my husband. Eventually I rang him - "Darling" I said in my best panicky voice (I always call him 'darling' when an apology will inevitably follow) - "I left my keys in the car and it's been stolen..."
Silence, except for bleeps and voices in the background.
"Darling? I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have...."
"What ARE you talking about?" he barked, "I dropped you off this morning in your car while mine is being serviced, remember?"
My turn to be silent, digesting this information and the waste of guilt it represented.
"Well," I said with all the bravado I could muster. "Come and get me then..."
"Oh I will", he retorted "just as soon as I can convince this copper that I didn't steal your car."