Lost and found

After trying to burn my house down on Monday morning with the cast iron skillet incident, I went to work as usual. When I returned in the evening to the transit station, it was to find that during the day my car had been stolen. A pretty crappy Monday, you might say. I called the police and filed a report right there from the parking lot (in the cold and dark), dismayed at the prospect of having to find a replacement auto. It just isn’t in our budget right now. The nice police officer gave me a courtesy ride home after he learned that my only option for getting home was to walk (in the cold and dark). I had to ride in the back seat, and I denied my sister a picture. I don’t need that kind of blackmail material floating around.

Tuesday saw phone calls with our insurance agent, a follow up on the police report, and more fretting over what to do about transportation. Dinner out because I was unable to go to the grocery store as planned on Monday evening. Discussion about what we could afford to spend on a replacement car (not much).

Wednesday we got a phone call from the police letting us know that my car had been located just a couple miles away, in a large parking lot. Yay! We went down to retrieve the car, relieved that it had been located with only the typical losses (small personal items – including prescription glasses, which I found odd.). I am bummed about the missing items, but glad to have the car back. The thief(s) used most of a tank of gas, but I suppose they could have abandoned it a hundred miles away instead of just down the road, so while it goes against my nature to be thankful toward the thief(s) but I have to admit it could have been worse.

Though, if I had been forced into buying a new car, perhaps I could have gone with something like this:

Halloween-McLaren-MP4-12C-Jack-o-lanter-theme1

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About wonkydonkey

You want random? You got it. Mostly knitting and gardening, with some home improvements, pets, baking, family, and the occasional bad joke thrown in for good measure. This blog is mine; it is a place where I can insist upon proper grammar or break my own rules and degrade into slang on a whim. Either way, it's still mine. I love the Internet.
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