Help me out.
If you, somehow, happened to be at the same bowling alley as my husband and I this past Friday and, somehow, took my beloved jacket with you, what would you say upon calling and returning it?
Would it be, “I’m so sorry.”
Or, “We have the same coat! My mistake.”
How about, “I don’t want to make you drive 45 minutes to pick this up — may have your address and mail it to you?”
All of those would be fantastic apologies.
But this one (after requesting I meet you at a gas station by your house before you head off to some college in Wisconsin)….
“It was so weird… I was really drunk and don’t know why I took it.”
…would not be my choice.
At least I have it back.
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Last March, I went to a karaoke bar for my brother’s birthday party. The next day, I realized my beautiful red trench coat was nowhere to be found. Not in anyone’s car. Not in the bar. Stolen by some cruel fiend. I never got it back. I still miss it.