The Boy's truck got stolen.
And no, we haven't found it. I was at work when it happened, and he showed up to bring me lunch because it was his day off and because he's the sweetest man alive. I had gotten a text from him that I would never guess what had happened, so when he showed up I was ready with some guesses:
The Boy: Hi honey!
Me: Our neighbors got a Great Dane? The Iranian* women who live downstairs invited us to dinner tomorrow? You met a girl who wants to come home with us?**
TB: Nope. None of those.
Me: What then?
TB: Do you see my truck?
Me: Um... *looks around* no... Where is it?
TB: It got stolen.
Apparently there's this tow truck that is stealing cars. It's rather ingenious really: the truck tows cars, never from the same place twice, and no one ever questions it because it's a tow truck. But, according to the cops, it's not a legit operation and it's been stealing cars around our area for the last few weeks. And they took my baby's truck. Boo!
So now we're a one-car household and I drive him to his store before going in to work, which is fine, but now our hypothetical wedding fund has become a hypothetical new car fund, and that's just not fun. *Pout*
*Or Pakistani, or Palestinian, or something. I am woefully inept at determining these things.
**What? Shut up.