One of those days
One of those days
The cat was not acting her usual self last night and we then saw some blood on the floor and on the towel she sleeps on. When I attempted to look closely at an area on her stomach that she was licking continuously, she meowed-squawked, and took off for the laundry room. This morning, Marianne got a closer look and saw a nasty gash. A visit to the vet determined it was even deeper than we thought, and would require stitches.
So now, we are being treated to the pitiful sight of our cat staggering around with a cone-head. She’s freaked, her balance is off, and in pain. Disconcerting, but what can you do?
This evening, I went to bucolic Sierra Madre to help a friend with a political spot. An attempt to do some good, I think it went well. However, I left his house, went out to the quiet, tree lined street to find – no car!
My car was stolen! It’s an odd thing. I actually looked up and down an EMPTY street, to see if I had put it somewhere else, as if I had misplaced the TV remote or something.
This really sucks. We only have one car. It’s not a new car, but it’s our car, our reliable Honda Accord. Or at least it was. For the moment, we’re kinda at a loss.
For those that don’t know, Sierra Madre is like Mayberry. Not a high crime area, to put it mildly.
Singing the song of everybody who has had a car stolen – I hope carma (no I didn’t misspell that) really nails whoever stole my car. And I hope they aren’t chopping it up as I write this.
After filling out the police report, the officer gave me a little card and said they’d call if anything turned up. She gave me her condolences, which was nice, and then – that was it. It’s disheartening to walk out of the police station with just a little card that has a report number and a few other things. Is this all I have now?
The great prescription sunglasses Marianne had just gotten me for my birthday were in the glove compartment too. Damn it.
Anyway, if you live in Connecticut, please vote for Ned Lamont. And if you do, leave a message on this blog. At least it’ll make the stolen car not seem entirely in vain.
that's crappy.
ReplyDeletego ned!
Yeah, it is crappy.
ReplyDeleteBelieve it or not, it's been really depressing. Oh well, in the scheme of things, a lot worse happens to a lot of people.
It does suck. (Plus Accords run forever - mine went over 225,000...)
ReplyDeleteBut you might be better off if it is chopped or totalled, insurance-wise - what you don't want is recovered and damaged.
(I spent an hour wandering the streets at 2 AM in Philly when out Arcura was stolen, hoping even if I knew better that I'd 'forgotten' where I'd parked..)
-Sam (currently a Director/Camryman)
Stefan, that really sucks! I'm so sorry to hear the news. And in Sierra Madre, of all places. It's weird how crimes happen in supposedly "safe" areas. I was once mugged on Sawtelle, right by all those Japanese restaurants, just 3 blocks from a police station. And a friend had his car stolen right out of his driveway in La Canada Flintridge. People suck.
ReplyDeleteWithdraw fron I-raq is a start, I'd vote for him over Leiberman in a second.
ReplyDeleteMoral of this car theft story is *wear your presciption shades at night*
Works for Wong Kar-wai ;-)
-Sam
(Addressed to stealthelephant):
ReplyDeleteWhat an insightful and brave post - coming out in support of a greasy, unctuous villain; your ineluctably apposite evocation of anal rape; and especially in your profound courage to call someone a pussy on his own blog, especially after his car got hoiked. What's next - coming out against Cindy Sheehan? Or Michael J. Fox? How others' loss must get you off!
While people who enjoy reading can easily find that Lamont's platform is so much deeper than "leave Iraq," it is understandably difficult to get more than 2 words past the earholes of people like yourself who do not. That, combined with the Repubs' neat trick of not running a candidate, makes Lamont's prospects of victory extremely unlikely.
Perhaps you don't understand what I am saying. By reading your (wordless) blogger profile, I cannot make out who you are; I cannot see the depths of your soul past your sweet handle and your honey-laden post about carnal love in prison. So I must make myself clear. I'm not a stealth anything; I'm a bleeding heart liberal. That's three words - too much for you? How about these two letters: FU.
- Brian Felsen
www.brianfelsen.com