Busted By June

Jun 30, 2011 by

June has busted out all over, and I don’t mean it in a good way. I wish it were otherwise. I’m just thankful we decided to be less than conventional and got married in May a little over ten years ago. Yes, it’s just past Dan’s and my tenth year together as husband and wife, and if we’d suffered a month like this one early in our marriage, I don’t know if we’d have gotten this far…

What can I say? Things kinda tanked after my brother’s graduation. It’s terrible when the peak of the month is at the beginning of the month. Shortly afterwards, one of our cars breaks down. The other car suffers a blowout on I-55 as I’m taking the little guy back home from sleep-away camp (bless the Samaritan who pulled over and helped me change the tire, even though my first impulse was to wonder if the good ol’ boy in the Taurus wasn’t going to stuff us in his trunk) and we have to limp home on a doughnut spare. I get a summer cold shortly afterwards. And then I hear the noises downstairs on Sunday morning, and my husband isn’t due to come back from his trip to points north until the next day…

I look over our banister to find our front door open halfway and one of our bikes in the foyer gone, and a guy is walking off our front porch. I yelled at the guy, who didn’t have the bike with him and who I’d never seen before. He acted like I was nuts for demanding why he had to barge into our house, ’cause I knew I locked that front door, even if it was only the bottom lock. But someone else could have come in before him in the night and taken the bike – which is when I started to freak out.

Amazingly enough, I’ve never had to call 911 before. By the time the police got here, I was chided for not calling sooner. I had this idea in my head that one only calls 911 if bodily harm is involved. I realize now that the potential for somebody to come further up those stairs and hurt me and my son as we slept is worth an emergency call. At that point, it’s not even about the bike, but about what the report was filed under – criminal trespass. I don’t want this to happen to anybody else on my street. I’m grateful for my neighbor’s offer of the use of his gun if it does happen again, but the officers did get here shortly after I called and did do their best to actually serve.

So I no longer wonder why Hizzoner the Walking Id and Heckuva Job Brownie are shilling books at the same time, why the Danziger Bridge trial is just now getting its start, why the slippery weirdness of our politicians keeps rearing its, erm, ugly head, or why local chefs and club owners seem to be dropping like flies (or nearing that state). It’s June, dammit. And next time it comes ’round, I’ll be sure to prepare accordingly.

Liprap

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