I (stupidly, and against the wise and regular counsel of my wife) left the car unlocked last night. In our driveway. I won’t be doing that again. We’re clearly not in Townsville anymore… (though I did the same thing there last year with similar results – a stolen pocket knife (luckily not my “I inherited it from my pa so it’s a family heirloom pocket knife”).
Items stolen from the centre console include the case of the new Basement Birds CD I bought on Monday, sadly holding my (favourite of all time) Gomez “How We Operate” CD, and my iPod. They also pinched Robyn’s car survival kit from our glovebox. So they’re the proud owners of a box of mints, some strapping tape, and other miscellaneous items.
If I catch them I’ll bash’em.
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That hollow feeling in the pit of your gut when the fact you’ve been ripped off is really something isn’t it?
At least it doesn’t involve damage to the car, as well. We had our Tarago front quarter window broken at a Melbourne shopping center car park one day. We lost a heap of stuff from the car, but since we had to get a genuine Toyota window, it cost us a much to fix as a non-genuine windscreen. And we were picking glass shards out of the front of the car for months.
I didn’t note a Bible amongst the purloined items, so you can’t posit the idea of them reading it and being converted as a result of their crime.
Maybe they’ll choke to death on the mints and go straight to judgement instead. Or is that too vindictive?