(no subject)
This evening at book club, I was yelled at for not updating. I started to make my usual claim that I had nothing to write about when I realized that's not exactly true. In the past few weeks I've had family come visit, booked a trip to Chicago for New Year's, visited the Renaissance Festival with a bunch of gay men (and Tracy) and was Maid of Honor in one of my best friends' weddings. So I have no excuse for not updating, only the truth - which is that I have been too busy watching Elf for the 90th time on cable TV or reading my geography reference book (which is really a good thing considering I spent a good 5 minutes arguing in favor of the existence of an Antarctic Ocean a couple of weeks ago). I have no cause for claiming an uneventful couple of weeks, and in order to make up for things, I will tell you about a little incident that happened Thanksgiving weekend.
As I mentioned, I had family come visit recently - my aunt and uncle who stayed to celebrate Thanksgiving with us and left the day after the holiday. Because I'd spent the week away from my house, I promised myself that I'd spend Saturday morning being blissfully lazy and anti-social. I planned to lay in bed and read my book with a good cup of tea, refusing to answer the phone until I was good and ready to acknowledge the rest of the world. And that is why I was so pissed when I heard a knock at my door at 8:30 on Saturday morning.
At first I dismissed it because I felt sure it was one of those pesky teenagers trying to make me buy a 2 year subscription to Fine Fishing Magazine so they could take a crappy trip to Acapulco and get hepititis from drinking beer from a can. I ignored it thinking that anyone knocking at 8:30 in the morning was either not worth my time, or would knock again with urgency. Which is why, when I heard another knock, my heart caught in my throat a little bit. I got out of bed at that point and looked out my peephole, but couldn't see a thing through my holiday wreath. I went into my room to put on pants (because I am a firm believer in a pantsless lifestyle, especially on lazy, anti-social weekends) and the knock came again. Now I was beginning to get really nervous, so I pulled on some sweats as fast as I could and answered the door braless (which is something I try not to do).
There in front of me was a 5 foot tall police woman. She didn't ask my name, she didn't introduce herself, she just said, "I think your car was broken into". I believe I replied with something like, "oo....kaaaay...." Following the silence she read out my licence plate number and I confirmed it was mine. We stared at each other. She wasn't very good with the communicating. After a second she said, "you should put on a coat and shoes and meet me outside." She didn't say "bra" but I could tell she was thinking it.
As I searched for something warm to throw on, I began to wonderwhy on earth someone would break into my car. There's nothing in it - I don't even have a CD player. Hell, I only have 1 of 4 hubcaps. What could anyone possibly want with my car? Let me tell you - nothing. Not my broken cassette tapes, not my hand-me-down coat, and not my 3 phone chargers. Not my registration or my Nissan manual or my Muzak umbrella. Apparently, they just wanted to bash the hell out of my passenger window.
This was what I was greeted with on Saturday morning, when I was supposed to be in bed reading my book, pantsless and braless, drinking a cup of tea:
Bitches!! My morning was spent calling insurance agents, scheduling repairs, cleaning glass out of the car - all the while wearing PANTS and a BRA. Decidedly the opposite of my wishes. As far as I know, they've caught one of the punks involved and are looking for the other two. It sounds like they weren't looking for anything, just random acts of vandalism and the ruining of no-shower Saturday mornings.
Fortunately, my insurance company is worth what I pay them each month and they were able to get my car fixed quickly and for free. And I finally managed a pantsless, braless morning of tea and reading yesterday.
P.S. B - I could see how you would think that is Todd in that picture, which scares me a little, because it is actually a picture of Jason Bateman, whom I love and adore.