Before you start jumping to conclusions, our boys are not the thieves. I know it may appear logical to assume they might graduate into thievery after uttering lines like, “Big Fat Ass” (story here) and “Momma Said Knock You Out” (courtesy of LL Cool J), but no… we’re actually the victims.
A petty theft really, but nevertheless, one that has Paul and I scratching our heads.
Some desperate and wet thief stole two umbrellas off our front porch. Gasp! I know, really not such a big deal. Yet, left behind was my cool pink Adirondack chair with pillow, decorative metal urn with plant and a large steel rooster.
Really, two umbrellas? You venture up and onto my property and that’s all you take?
Funny thing is this… after having been gone for two weeks in Connecticut, Paul returns last week and one of the first things he says after commenting on the new paint job in the kitchen, dining room and back hall, (story for another day) is “Aren’t you worried that rooster’s going to get stolen?
NO! Who the hell’s going to come up on our porch and steal that? Come on! We don’t live in the hood anymore.
Well, irony has a way of biting you in the ass. Yet, the thief or thieves didn’t steal my cool rooster, just my two umbrellas. Umbrellas must have more street value than a steel rooster with the never ending rain in Atlanta.
We figure they must’ve been stolen in the middle of the night while Tank slept in Tucker’s bed and Toby must have been napping between his nightly patrols through the house. No one ever gets that close to our front door without Toby turning into a very loud guard dog, especially at night. Makes me wonder why we have a sophisticated alarm system in the first place??
So we’re scratching our heads.
It was understandable that we’d have lost two umbrellas to thievery when we had our first place in Charlotte, NC. Living in the Elizabeth neighborhood which bordered a sketchy area, it was common place for people to steal your nicely potted plants off your front step, or in our case, out of your back yard.
How lovely it was to take our dogs for a walk one morning and see two broken pots on the sidewalk two blocks from our place. I thought how odd it was to see these large pots with flowers broken on the sidewalk and felt bad for whoever they had been stolen from. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to realize they were mine and amid the disappointment, I was bitter.
Or, when we lived in Richmond, VA in the Fan on West Grace Street back in the late 90’s with transvestite prostitutes working the alleys and the odd assortment of million dollar row homes spattered with your random run down group homes. We expected to be victims.
It’s there that I would walk with my keys between my fingers late night after I parked my car and was never sure it would be there in the morning. Yet, no one ever stole my umbrellas, but there was a drive by shooting at the end of our block. Go figure and yeah Mom and Dad, I never told you that.
So here we are, all these years later, fully aware that no place is crime free or truly safe, but really? Two umbrellas? It certainly has us scratching our heads.