Today, as we ran toward the car, ready for another day of school, work, and general craziness, we were stopped short. All the door of our vehicles were hanging open. This is very unusual here in rainy Washington state. My first thought was that the kids were really going to be in trouble if they let my battery die. After a second though, I realized that we had actually been robbed. Well, now I say robbed and then that’s not exactly accurate. They didn’t take anything. The would-be-thieves rummaged through every nook and cranny spilling out it’s contents all over the seats. The left check books, stereos, tapes, and other valuables. They did haul one sweatshirt down the block before leaving it, but other than that they really just cleaned the car for us.
We actually found a wallet that had been missing for months. Never had any money in it, so if they stole something out of it, it was probably only about sixty cents. It kind of reminded me of when my parents built a new house the summer I graduated from high school and I, being the youngest, moved into my grandparents house with them until I would go off for college in the fall. My grandmother was a total neat freak. She thought the room was filthy if more than the bed touched the floor, including throw rugs. She always thought that my room wasn’t clean enough, so she would pile everything onto my bed to be put away. She did not like a particular basket of trinkets I kept on my dresser and it ended up all over my pillow time and time again.
Today reminded me of her cleaning sprees. I wish I could thank my intruders for doing such a thorough job of sorting through things. I am not sure if I should be glad they didn’t steal anything, or insulted that our stuff wasn’t good enough. There is a certain freedom though, in owning the kind of crap that no one else wants.