I hate being awakened by a cop and told that kids got into my car.
They swiped twenty cents and my yoga mat.
Say what?
Yes. Teenagers getting off on stealing some old lady’s sweat soaked exercise mat. The security guard drove through the lot and saw them running from my car. They left the gas cap cover open, the windshield wipers on, the middle compartment open, the glove box open, and there’s no clue of how they got in. It’s habitual for me to get out, lock, slam, make sure the door’s closed all the way.
Oh, yeah. A screwdriver and pliers were missing, as well as the manual for the car. oooooooooooo. Bet that’ll get two bucks at the swap meet. An allowance is so passe.
Me, angry? nawwww. It’s much easier to cope with this than having my front door kicked in. Now, that was traumatic. This, I can amuse myself imagining those kids bragging about the YOGA MAT they swiped. I’m sure it put up a valiant struggle.
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