Normally I’m a Pollyanna sort, but the events of this past week have me feeling more like Maleficent. Let me count the ways:
My car window was smashed in while I was swimming at a local park.
My favorite handbag, the one I bargained for entirely in Spanish on my visit to a mercado in La Antigua de Guatemala, was stolen.
My credit cards were used in questionable locations. At least the thieves are interesting.
My passport is gone, along with my driver’s license, insurance, and prescription cards, etc.
I’ve made more phone calls in the past four days to take care of this stuff than I’ve had to make in the last four years. I could have built and furnished a three story treehouse in the time I’ve spent on hold.
I had day surgery which, while not related to the robbery, sure didn’t make me feel like a princess.
I have enough intestinal gas to power a small fleet of cars.
My completed “buy ten massages, get one free” card was in my stolen handbag. This might piss me off more than all the other losses combined. I NEED that massage.
I just dropped a 32 oz. diet Dr. Pepper in the driver’s side floor of Studly Doright’s pickup truck. He’s already angry at me for the loss of my purse, so I need to go and clean up my mess.
I know Pollyanna is still in here somewhere, but I might need to exorcise the villain first.