Dude, where's my car?

Kenny called me early at work this morning:

me: "City National, this is Jill"
Kenny: "Kenny's Phone, this is your husband. Good Morning!"
chit chat ensues....
Kenny: "So...guess where my car is?"
me: "The parking lot (no), our car port (no), McDonald's' parking lot (no) ... where?"
Kenny: It took me awhile, too. Think about it."
me (thinking): "hhmmmmm. **lightbulb** oh. Oh! Crap."

After work on Friday, Kenny met me at my office in Irvine so we could drive to Oceanside together. We were spending the night and next day with some of his high school friends and their families. (Allow me a quick diversion: Freddy, Mandy, Shanna, Blair and kids - thanks for a super fun weekend. We had a blast. Pictures coming soon.). Anyway, I'll cut to the chase. Kenny's car was parked safely in the parking structure at my office. The crazy-high-tech parking structure with scales and electric key cards. The one that traps me in occasionally when all I want to do is go home. The one that would make it very difficult to get Kenny's car out, since mine was currently in. But I won't get into that dilemma. The point is that we didn't remember until today. Three days after leaving it. Our weekend was that good.