We live in what most people (including me) would consider the boonies and, I've got to tell you, Mayberry just doesn't exist. Despite living in the woods where there are more deer than people and every family could adopt their own bear if they like, we have our fair share of drunks, drug addicts, police chases, rapes, murders, crappy parents and jackass kids. Somehow, no matter how long the weekly police blotter, this environment has a way of lulling people into a false sense of security.
I'm somewhat active in my development. Most of my involvement revolves around rule-breakers, including punk-asses. I KNOW that people suck.
So why can't I ever bother to lock my car?
Last night, I couldn't sleep. Just after midnight, I headed downstairs to heat me up some leftover mac and cheese for a Colbert marathon. Standing in front of my kitchen window, I saw that the interior light was on in the husband's car. He and J had come home from their music lessons, juggling guitars and music books after 8, so it was pretty easy to assume that one of them (probably J) had left a door ajar.
Being after midnight, the husband didn't quite grasp what I was saying when I told him his light was on, so he walked over to the front door, checked the locks, and turned the porch light out. He wasn't exactly fully-functioning. When he realized what I had actually said, he went out and turned the car's light off, came in, and went to bed.
This morning, he went to get his laptop out of the car to do "paper"work. Isn't it funny how it's still called paperwork? It's too bad these things aren't done on paper anymore, b/c the laptop is gone. So is the backpack full of clothes the girls had taken to Grandma's this weekend.
Yup, we are idiots who almost never lock our cars. And it finally bit us in the ass.
So, we've been doing the report filing thing today. That's been fun. The company is trying to remember whether or not they kept the computer lojack service. I'm trying to get past the oogy feeling that comes with finding your little girls' underwear scattered in trees (along with the rest of their clothes).
But these punks are morons. Sure, they got a laptop. But they chose to grab a bright pink, giant backpack, rather than a computer bag that had an external hard drive in it, a digital camera, or CDs. Even stranger, they dumped the clothes and took the giant pink backpack with them. Because what punk-ass is complete without one of those?
Sadly, I feel a bit better knowing that several of my neighbors were also hit last night. At least I'm not the only idiot.
So, punk-asses, when I see you walking around with a giant pink backpack, be prepared for an ass kicking. I'm not afraid of anyone who would put a higher value on that than on a heavy computer bag. And I'm pissed about my kids' underwear. Do you have any idea how much Tinkerbell panties cost, you stupid freaks?
I'm also not afraid of jail. I've been craving a vacation.
And I'm training my dogs to think all strangers are the UPS man.
I used to watch wrestling.
The Boarding House by The Pioneer Woman
1 day ago