They say that God never gives you more than you can handle. That, dear readers, is a crock. As a crusty old-timer used to say in meetings, the asylums and prisons are full of people who got more than they could handle. And he's right. But I do believe this: the universe won't give me more than I can handle for one day without a drink or a drug.
Some time between 7 p.m. last night and 8 a.m. this morning, my car disappeared.
At first it was more of a curiosity than an event, like losing my phone. We went outside to leave for the day, my kid and I, and she asked me, "where's the car?" And we looked on the street and in the carport and there was no car. So then I said, "where's the car?" We walked to the end of the driveway and looked up and down the street. Maybe it rolled away.
And then I started trying to think of all the places we could have left the car. I mean, I do lose stuff, you know? Often the last five minutes before I leave for work are spent pacing from room to room and back again, trying to find my keys. Maybe the car is in my other coat.
It didn't take long to consider all the other places we could have left the car (there being none) so I called the police.
All day long, it seemed like the car must be right there and we just weren't seeing it. Maybe it popped into a parallel universe for a holiday. It'll be back.
But no, the bottom line is this: some fucking asshole stole my car.
The cop told me it was probably the work of a professional, since I still had the only key and there was no broken glass or signs of a break-in. I have this sinking feeling that Clarence the Car, who was born way back in 2003, is by now just a little bigger than a breadbox, all squished and scrunched into a dandy hunk of scrap metal.
There was some stuff in the car, although nothing of great value: clothes for the dry cleaner, a wedding dress from the thrift shop (for a costume), probably a book or two. But what really pisses me off is the five big bags of cat food I had in the trunk. It was my regular brand, and Kroger had marked them down to less than half the regular price so I bought 'em up. I stored them in the trunk because my house doesn't have enough closet space. And now they're gone. And I'm almost out of cat food.
I might wish bad things upon the thief tomorrow; the numbness is starting to wear off. But tonight I'm just gonna go to bed.
Fucking, fucking assholes.