burgled

I've been burgled. And yes, it's a word. Look it up.

This morning when I got into my truck I was wondering why the glove box was open. And then I wondered why the centre console was open. And then I started to wonder what the man was looking for in his haste this morning.

And then I started to wonder why my burned cd's were all over the place. And then I wondered why the contents of the centre console were all over the seat. And then I wondered why the ash tray was open and hanging on by a thread.

Oh what? Don't act like you are all put together and super sleuthy in the morning. My wheels needed time to start turning. I have a head cold remember?

It was when I saw the sunglass holders in the roof of my truck open that I knew it was not the man rummaging for something but a stranger digging through my truck looking for something to steal from me.

Burgled. I was.

I tried to muster feelings of violation and dismay. Who would do such a thing? And in this neighbourhood where people are old and how did the burglar know I wasn't old and who would rob an old person?

I couldn't find the strength to get any further than that in my realization that I had been pillaged and plundered. That was as much alarm as I could assemble.

And this is why.

I have nothing of value in my vehicle. I barely have anything of value in my house. So if you want to rob me this is the list of things you can expect to steal from my truck:

One sugarplum lipgloss that may or may not be 7 years old.
Seven mix CD's that may or may not play because they, too, are old and scratched and unloved.
One Mamma Mia soundtrack. It doesn't have Chiquitita on it so........
One pair of sunglasses with one broken arm.
A plate. I don't know.........
Three dirty socks that don't match each other.
One flip flop. Yes, just one. Where is the other one? Again, I don't know.
A colouring book and 3 broken crayons from Boston Pizza.
Many many many sucker sticks and/or candy wrappers.
No pop cans because I cleaned them out yesterday.

A day late you burgling punk. Could have had at least 75 cents for that.

It helps to be a little bit trashy. And by a little bit I mean a lot trashy. Because the only thing of value I had in the truck was the loonie I keep in the ashtray for Superstore.

He stole my Superstore loonie.

So, my fair burgling friend, I hope you spend that loonie wisely and not all in one place. And next time? Just knock and I'll give you one of the children to sell on the black market.

I'm sure you'd get more than a buck for any one of them.