They ruined National Coffee Day

On Tuesday morning, I was hustling the kids out the front door for school. It was a great morning – no one was fighting, homework seemed to be present and accounted for, lunch boxes were in their back packs. Tuesday was totally working out.

Until…

I opened the door of my car and it looked like a hurricane had gone off in there.

Like an idiot, I stared at all the debris with my jaw hanging open. It confused me. Why would the console be open and everything I had tucked away in there be strewn all over the seats and floor?

I called My Honey. “Please tell me you rifled through my car before you headed off for work today.”

“No,” he said. “Why would I do that?”

“Because if you didn’t then someone broke into my car last night.”

Or a cup full of pens?

Once I put it all together, it was obvious that is what happened.

In a chance in a million, I actually think Dave was unlocked. We’d been to the grocery store the night before. I think after the 75 million trips back and forth from the kitchen to the car, the alarm was never armed.

I know, right? God damn it. Well, at least it saved the window from being smashed.

They took the strangest things. A cup full of pens including 2 Tootsie Roll Pops and a pair of manicure nippers. I have absolutely no idea what they wanted with a cup full of pens, but I seriously lament the loss of the lollipops and the nippers.

Also, they took two envelopes of receipts and my checkbook.

When I called the banks to alert them to this pending disaster, the super nice lady at Wells Fargo said something really cute. “At the risk of sounding like your mother, dear,” she said, her tone gentle, “you shouldn’t leave your checkbook in your car.”

Sigh. I know. I was an idiot.

I have to go and close all my bank accounts and reopen them. It’s a nightmare.

I continue to be baffled by the cup of pens, though. Especially when they didn’t take any of the electronics. Not my

Actually, this kid looks older

satellite radio or my Bluetooth devices. None of it.

Ava made me call the police in case there is any thing that comes from identity theft. From my office I contacted them via the non-emergency number. They told me to call when I got back home so they could collect the tools the thieves left in my car since I was so helpful as to leave Dave unlocked.

I called them again at 6pm and told them to come. At 7pm they called me and said the officers were busy at emergencies, but that they hadn’t forgotten about me. I was patient. After all, this was definitely NOT an emergency.

I called them again at 10:30 just to check in with them ’cause my understanding was running a bit thin after four hours. The dispatcher promised they would call my cell phone when they were en route so as to not ring my doorbell and wake up the entire house.

At 11pm I met a policeman on my front porch. He was approximately twelve years old. I wanted to ask him if his mother was cool with him being a cop. He was too young for such a dangerous job. I thought about offering him some chocolate milk while we wrote the report, but I thought he wouldn’t appreciate that. Was he even old enough to drive the cruiser?

My plan of not disturbing my household was completely ruined by the fact that my idiot bloodhound Rosco stood on the couch and stared out the window at me and the policemen and bayed for twenty solid minutes. The windows were vibrating from it.

The cop asked how it was possible we didn’t know Dave was being broken into with a dog like that. I informed him that my dog was useless when it came to things like guarding the house. Although one time he treed a stray cat on my floor lamp, but that’s not really helpful at 3 o’clock in the morning either. As far as dogs go, he’s not very good a dogging. I’d have had better luck if I chained the cat to the bumper and let him glare at the thieves.

All in all, I was too discombobulated to really appreciate National Coffee Day. That, my friends, may be the true tragedy to this story.

Well, and maybe the Tootsie Roll Pops.