Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Is the moon in the seventh house? Jupiter aligned with Mars?
I’ve had the strangest, most amazing, and awful few days. The only logical explanation could be the moon.
Sunday morning I awoke from a fitful sleep filled with anxiety-ridden dreams, boa constrictors, fires, family in tears, cake eating, and resuscitation. My mom and sister were in town, and turns out the whole household suffered the same sleep.
A breakfast of homemade whole what pancakes with pecans and bananas made things better, so we decided to go for a walk before dropping my sister off at the bus station.
I do live in a suburb-ish type place that is incredibly close to the city (4 mi), but it is also near a nature reserve. I have learned to love it.
The three of us go hiking in the woods, which were perfect and beautiful, but we turned on to a path that put us over a mile away from where the car was parked, and we had to leave to get my sis to her bus in 5 minutes. I called my housemate, he picked us up and drove us to the car. As we pulled up to our vehicle, everyone began to wonder if we had left a window down, because it seemed like the back window was missing. Turns out someone smashed it in. In broad 12:45pm daylight. On a major road.
Luckily, my mom and I had put our bags in the trunk. But my sister, being the poor college student that she is, left her bag in the back seat. Who would steal a bag full of knitting needles and library books?
A drunken asshole, that’s who.
My sister’s bag was gone, as was her purse, which contained 3 dollars, some change, and a credit card with $30 left on it.
We were shocked, and the realization of everything that was lost began to sink in. What was in the bag was valuable, but not to anyone else but my sister: library books that would cost hundreds of dollars to replace, a room key that would cost hundreds of dollars to replace, all her knitting needles (almost $100 worth), some clothes, and her final essay for school that was handwritten (by the suggestion of her dumb teacher).
We called the cops, Morgan (sister), got on the phone to cancel her card. The motherfucker had already started spending money at a gas station, a liquor store, and a McDonald’s. Based on the store’s location, and how long we were away, he had gotten to our car probably 10 minutes before we got there.
Police reports were filed, we were all praying to something that we would at least find her backpack. While at the Police Barracks, they get a call saying they found a pocketbook and a pair of pants at the gas station that the card was used. The wallet was at a different police station now, 20 minutes away.
We finished filing the report, parked my mom’s busted car at the house, and we were off to Exxon Mobil in Lynnfield. By our private investigating expertise, we determined that the criminal would likely get rid of her bag once he realized how worthless it was (the bastard). We arrive at the gas station and scour the garbage. Nothing. We thank the employee who called the cops about the wallet. He was swell.
Next stop was the McDonald’s. All four of us split in different directions, picking through the 18 trashcans outside the place, and rummaging through bathrooms, etc. inside. We were winding up empty handed until a car pulled out of the parking lot to reveal A 19th Trashcan. I slowly walked over, peered inside, and pulled out my sister’s backpack. My mom comes screaming out of the McDonald’s ‘She found it! She found it!’ as I stood there in udder disbelief.
We were psyched. We were smiling from ear to ear. We piled into the car, drove to the police station, picked up the wallet that was indeed Morgan’s, and re-counted this most amazing journey that happened in just 2 and half hours.
We celebrated with salads and beer.
After our lunch we dropped Morgan off at the bus station, mom went in with her to buy her ticket, and my housemate and me turned off the car to wait. ‘ Fuck yeah!’ ‘We’re awesome.’ ‘Hey, you know what was weird, when I put my window down just now it went really slow.’ ‘Weird, let me turn the car on again.’
No dice. The car was dead.
My mom came back to the car all smiles and skipping. I broke the news. She thought I was kidding. I was not.
To summarize the rest of this story: 2 and a half hours later, mom and I were on the subway on our way home to my house, and my abandoned housemate was still waiting for AAA in the car. He couldn’t leave it because the window was stuck down. The car couldn’t be jumped because it was the alternator.
9 hours later after our initial venture, all members found themselves back in their respective places. Morgan got back to Amherst (2+ hours away) before we got home from the bus station (6 miles from my house).
There went a day of mixing my record.
That’s what you get when you try and have fun.
Back to the basement.
I’ve had the strangest, most amazing, and awful few days. The only logical explanation could be the moon.
Sunday morning I awoke from a fitful sleep filled with anxiety-ridden dreams, boa constrictors, fires, family in tears, cake eating, and resuscitation. My mom and sister were in town, and turns out the whole household suffered the same sleep.
A breakfast of homemade whole what pancakes with pecans and bananas made things better, so we decided to go for a walk before dropping my sister off at the bus station.
I do live in a suburb-ish type place that is incredibly close to the city (4 mi), but it is also near a nature reserve. I have learned to love it.
The three of us go hiking in the woods, which were perfect and beautiful, but we turned on to a path that put us over a mile away from where the car was parked, and we had to leave to get my sis to her bus in 5 minutes. I called my housemate, he picked us up and drove us to the car. As we pulled up to our vehicle, everyone began to wonder if we had left a window down, because it seemed like the back window was missing. Turns out someone smashed it in. In broad 12:45pm daylight. On a major road.
Luckily, my mom and I had put our bags in the trunk. But my sister, being the poor college student that she is, left her bag in the back seat. Who would steal a bag full of knitting needles and library books?
A drunken asshole, that’s who.
My sister’s bag was gone, as was her purse, which contained 3 dollars, some change, and a credit card with $30 left on it.
We were shocked, and the realization of everything that was lost began to sink in. What was in the bag was valuable, but not to anyone else but my sister: library books that would cost hundreds of dollars to replace, a room key that would cost hundreds of dollars to replace, all her knitting needles (almost $100 worth), some clothes, and her final essay for school that was handwritten (by the suggestion of her dumb teacher).
We called the cops, Morgan (sister), got on the phone to cancel her card. The motherfucker had already started spending money at a gas station, a liquor store, and a McDonald’s. Based on the store’s location, and how long we were away, he had gotten to our car probably 10 minutes before we got there.
Police reports were filed, we were all praying to something that we would at least find her backpack. While at the Police Barracks, they get a call saying they found a pocketbook and a pair of pants at the gas station that the card was used. The wallet was at a different police station now, 20 minutes away.
We finished filing the report, parked my mom’s busted car at the house, and we were off to Exxon Mobil in Lynnfield. By our private investigating expertise, we determined that the criminal would likely get rid of her bag once he realized how worthless it was (the bastard). We arrive at the gas station and scour the garbage. Nothing. We thank the employee who called the cops about the wallet. He was swell.
Next stop was the McDonald’s. All four of us split in different directions, picking through the 18 trashcans outside the place, and rummaging through bathrooms, etc. inside. We were winding up empty handed until a car pulled out of the parking lot to reveal A 19th Trashcan. I slowly walked over, peered inside, and pulled out my sister’s backpack. My mom comes screaming out of the McDonald’s ‘She found it! She found it!’ as I stood there in udder disbelief.
We were psyched. We were smiling from ear to ear. We piled into the car, drove to the police station, picked up the wallet that was indeed Morgan’s, and re-counted this most amazing journey that happened in just 2 and half hours.
We celebrated with salads and beer.
After our lunch we dropped Morgan off at the bus station, mom went in with her to buy her ticket, and my housemate and me turned off the car to wait. ‘ Fuck yeah!’ ‘We’re awesome.’ ‘Hey, you know what was weird, when I put my window down just now it went really slow.’ ‘Weird, let me turn the car on again.’
No dice. The car was dead.
My mom came back to the car all smiles and skipping. I broke the news. She thought I was kidding. I was not.
To summarize the rest of this story: 2 and a half hours later, mom and I were on the subway on our way home to my house, and my abandoned housemate was still waiting for AAA in the car. He couldn’t leave it because the window was stuck down. The car couldn’t be jumped because it was the alternator.
9 hours later after our initial venture, all members found themselves back in their respective places. Morgan got back to Amherst (2+ hours away) before we got home from the bus station (6 miles from my house).
There went a day of mixing my record.
That’s what you get when you try and have fun.
Back to the basement.
posted by Sarah RabDAU at
12:44 PM
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