Not a good day so far
Dec. 12th, 2002 01:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ventaSo, this morning I'm woken up by Andy wandering around complaining that he can't find his carkeys. This isn't unusual.
What was unusal was that rather than just not being sure where he'd put them, he knew where he thought they were and there they weren't. Cue much running around, panicking, and looking down the back of the sofa (no keys down there, sadly, but so many biros).
Then we find his car's unlocked, it's been rifled, and a couple of packets of fags nicked. So we're forced to conclude that either it's all coincidence, or someone ambled into the house and took the keys off the sofa. Some more fruitless searching, and we ring the police, leaning towards the latter answer.
The police were looking at us a bit funny, clearly not convinced by the story of stolen keys, when I notice that my wallet is suspiciously thinner than usual. It's in my coat pocket, where I left it, but is minus most of its contents. Further searching reveals that the spare set of keys for Andy's car is also missing from my bag, and my notebook is gone from my handbag. Both bags had been neatly zipped up again.
All of which was useful, as it meant the police were at least convinced that someone had taken stuff.
Seems an odd bunch of stuff to take, though. Two sets of keys for Andy's car, the keys for my car. Neither of the cars. The stereo, video etc are sitting cosily in their corner. Easily portable stuff like the DVDs, or the bottles of single malt, is all still there. But my notebook, worth no more than 30p to anyone other than me, has gone. And my collection of bus and train tickets (which I'd been saving against the day my compensation claim finally lumbers into action) has vanished.
I suppose it's nice to know that if we had to be burgled, it was by slightly insane people.
What was unusal was that rather than just not being sure where he'd put them, he knew where he thought they were and there they weren't. Cue much running around, panicking, and looking down the back of the sofa (no keys down there, sadly, but so many biros).
Then we find his car's unlocked, it's been rifled, and a couple of packets of fags nicked. So we're forced to conclude that either it's all coincidence, or someone ambled into the house and took the keys off the sofa. Some more fruitless searching, and we ring the police, leaning towards the latter answer.
The police were looking at us a bit funny, clearly not convinced by the story of stolen keys, when I notice that my wallet is suspiciously thinner than usual. It's in my coat pocket, where I left it, but is minus most of its contents. Further searching reveals that the spare set of keys for Andy's car is also missing from my bag, and my notebook is gone from my handbag. Both bags had been neatly zipped up again.
All of which was useful, as it meant the police were at least convinced that someone had taken stuff.
Seems an odd bunch of stuff to take, though. Two sets of keys for Andy's car, the keys for my car. Neither of the cars. The stereo, video etc are sitting cosily in their corner. Easily portable stuff like the DVDs, or the bottles of single malt, is all still there. But my notebook, worth no more than 30p to anyone other than me, has gone. And my collection of bus and train tickets (which I'd been saving against the day my compensation claim finally lumbers into action) has vanished.
I suppose it's nice to know that if we had to be burgled, it was by slightly insane people.
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Re: One further point...
Date: 2002-12-12 06:31 am (UTC)To be honest, we probably wouldn't have noticed had Andy not got up and tried to drive to work. Although I missed my notebook reasonably early on, I assumed I'd accidentally eaten it, as the idea that someone would have removed it from a bag, and replaced the bag, seemed a bit odd.
Re: One further point...
Date: 2002-12-12 05:10 pm (UTC)As for it being a game, I remember Warlock once saying he'd come back home to find his Mom and Dad dead and mystical symbols written in blood on the wall, and just shake his head and say, "Damn, the prelude's over." Maybe this is just the end of your prelude.