Went to get dinner for the wife and myself tonight, and realized that my car had been broken into. Well…technically not “broken” into, as evidently I left the freaking door unlocked last night, but somebody was in my car, rifling through my stuff, and making off with my XM radio, mp3 player, sunglasses (clip ons for my eyeglasses…like they’ll do him any good), and (this is the worst) my mileage log. That’s the one that really chaps me: there’s nothing in it that’s any good to the schmuck that stole it. It’s just a record of the miles I’ve driven this year for work. And I guess my choice in music didn’t suit him, because he left all my CDs. Go figure.
And good ol’ Rusty didn’t even make a sound. I guess he never heard the guy, since he didn’t actually have to break in. But still…the dog barks at EVERYTHING. How did he miss this?
I guess the hardest thing is that this happened right in my front yard. With my wife and daughter merely feet away. It was probably some stupid kid, taking a late night stroll, peeking into my car and, whatdoyaknow! It’s unlocked! Crap! I can hear my dad now, “And son, that’s why you always lock your car!” And that’s another kicker: I ALWAYS lock my car, but obviously, I didn’t last night. You see, I found out the hard way (after having a cop try to slim-jim my car after locking my keys inside) that Camrys can’t be slim-jimmed.
Do you know what I regret the most, though? How mad I got when I realized what had happened. I took this as a personal affront to my manhood, my dignity. I was pissed. Why do I regret that? I acted as if that stuff really mattered. It’s stuff. It can be replaced. Amanda and Caroline are ok. I’m ok. The car still runs, and I don’t have to get the window replaced. I just lost some stuff, that’s all. It could be a LOT worse.
I guess the Lord knew I didn’t really need that stuff, anyway.
But guys, check your doors tonight. For me.