Life has been very busy around here of late, most of it going just slightly off center in the most irritating of ways – hanging the skirt on Towanda and discovering the sticky snaps don’t stick, losing the base of not one, but two dress forms that I needed to set up a display in the local Art Guild Shop, having the scheduled time for said display set up moved to a completely different day at the last minute, like I have all the time in the world to do this shit, The Kid still being unemployed and needing a haircut, just to name a few.
But this post isn’t about most of that. It’s about (again) assholes and petty thievery.
A week or so ago, The Kid and I were working on Towanda’s skirts (not yet aware of the snap problem) and I moved my bicycle from where it was chained (totally in the way and I wasn’t using it anyway) to laying under the trailer, mostly out of sight of casual passersby. All was well.
On Sunday afternoon, Yvonne and I were outside talking over her tomato plants when we observed a young woman with a baby stroller enter the park, phone in hand, looking at the screen and turning this way and that, almost like she was lost and looking at a map or something. We remarked upon it but soon went back to more important discussions* and forgot about her.
Sabu has been particularly growly in the evenings, for lack of a better term, waking and stalking about growling low in her throat and even barking on occasion. I put it down to her being cranky at not having her usual number of outings at the dog park and figured it was just her arch-nemisis, Scooter, out strutting around like he owns the place (in his mind, he does. They’re basically the same dog in two bodies) and told her to hush.
Last night after I’d gotten in bed I heard a sound like a door slamming. Sabu jumped up and barked a couple of times but we didn’t go outside. All was quiet after that and I thought no more about it.
This morning when I took Sabu out for her morning walk I noticed a piece of metal siding I’d stashed under the trailer lying in the grass. The siding had been under my bicycle. A closer look confirmed the bike is gone. The thief must have pulled the bike out, it got caught on the siding and the sound I heard last night was the siding crashing about as they made off with my bike.
Fuck. It was not an expensive bike, but it was mine and the thought of fucking tweakers making off with my stuff boils my blood! So far in the last three months or so a couple of bikes have gone missing in the park as well as two bike trailers. My guess is that the girl with the stroller was casing the park to report back to the thieves where the easy pickings were to be found. Yvonne said she’d seen her a few times, wandering around like she was looking for someone.
So now I’ve become a victim of theft. I am hopping mad. I do not own a gun, but I do have a high-powered taser and the desire to see just what it does to a human being. If Sabu gets growly again, well, we’re gonna hurry outside and have ourselves a little look-see. Pretty sure I won’t go to jail for tasering a would-be thief, but I’m willing to take the chance at this point.
Life is getting too irritating to bear right now, what with the Peri-menopausal rages, wildly irregular periods and now I think I’m having hot flashes during the day and I’m waking up at night because I’m too hot. Me! Too hot under two thin blankets in fucking October! If you knew me at all you would be picking your jaw up off the floor at that last sentence, I assure you. Cold in the morning, flashes of hot during the afternoon, cold in the evening, despite adding layers and the temp being in the mid-60’s, and waking up in the middle of the night to throw off the covers.
Fuck. Just fuck.
* Like whether Drug Dealing Dave is really dealing drugs (yup! I’d stake my reputation on it) or whether we should give him the benefit of the doubt (Yvonne’s idea – she thinks he’s getting a bad rap based on stories he’s told her that don’t come anywhere close to adding up.) He’s still in the park, despite the efforts of The Old Ladies to get him out. They’re calling the Sheriff regularly about the excessive traffic of his “friends” but Management (Ha! what a joke!) at the park remains convinced that he’s a Good Guy, but they are very likely customers in his meth trade…OMG! I am so furious over the whole situation, I can’t tell you! Meanwhile, the tweaker parades have stopped being so obvious but Drug Dealing Dave races into and out of the park multiple times each evening and Management will hear nothing about it. There is no other explanation for his activities or the traffic around his trailer. None. Not even in the wildest, kindest, most ignorant imaginings of a total moron.