Last night, my purse was stolen out of my car WHILE MY CAR SAT IN MY GARAGE and I cooked dinner in the kitchen about 20 feet away. They got it all--my wallet, my credit cards, my check book, my driver's license and my iPod.
I'm steamed.
I feel mad and frustrated and violated and furious at myself for leaving my garage door up and my car unlocked. I'm even madder because they didn't take my cell phone or keys (which were both right next to my purse), so I'm put in the very weird position of being, um, thankful to the thieves for their generosity?
They've already used my credit cards, but the charges have all been at nearby fast food places and convenience stores, which means it's likely a bunch of teenagers having a very fun evening. And scrolling through my iPod laughing at the middle-aged chick with a Barry Manilow playlist. AT LEAST I have the satisfaction of knowing they're not getting any music they'll like.
And I KNOW there are a billion greater travesties going on in the world right at this very minute, and I'm trying to keep perspective (aided largely by my ten-year-old son who almost immediately suggested we pray for the thieves, and LET ME TELL YOU that stings). My family and I are healthy and safe and happy and whole. But still.
It was just a rotten day.
And that's all have I to say about that. Cheery mommy-blogging to resume next week.
