Dude, Where's My Car?

Don't you hate it when this happens? After running several errands today, I come out of store number three and head to where I parked my car. As I'm approaching said location I realize my car isn't there. I look around as my stomach knots up and the first thought that comes flooding into my head is, "someone's stolen my car!". Of course living so close to the border, it really wouldn't be that improbable that someone had indeed stolen my mom-mobile-of-a-mini-van. And it wouldn't be the first time I've been a victim of car theft since living in sunny San Diego. So as I'm standing frozen in the parking lot with my cart full of stuff, my baby in her car seat propped in the front of the cart, and my stomach in knots, I look around one last time and there I spot it. My car. Not parked where I thought it was, but parked two aisles over, farther back, and facing a different direction than I had remembered. Yea, the place I thought it was parked was where it was parked at the last place I stopped, store number two. My brain was remembering store number two's parking place, not store number three's. I'd completely lost track of where I was. I hate it when that happens.