I think I may be cursed.
Did someone pluck a brown hair from my unsuspecting head and create a creepy doll-like version of me? Surely, this all can't be plain bad luck.
Four days ago, Dink was burglarized. [Note the proper word usage.]
My pretty Toyota Yaris was unwillingly opened, his contents rummaged.
My license was taken. Oh, and did I mention four hundred dollars?
I'm a poor poor poor [emphasis on the poor] college student, who happens to be housesitting for a professor this summer. Being poor and all, I don't usually carry that kind of cash with me. However, this was the "emergency fund" they left me [in a sealed envelope] just in case the dog needed something.
So, now it has to come out of my shallow pockets. They get home tomorrow from South Africa. Because of the time difference, I haven't been able to get ahold of them to break the bad news. Needless to say, I'm looking forward to that delightfully awkward conversation.
"There was an emergency with the emergency fund..."
It's an eery feeling knowing someone else, a stranger, was poking his unwelcome nose into my car. I can't help but feel a tinsy bit violated.
To add a cherry on top of my sundae-esque week, I was involved in a hit-and-run accident this morning. Turning into my new neighborhood, I was especially chipper today. I had
just been to Wal-Mart, and I was on my way back to finish some painting when...
Out of nowhere a red pickup truck nails me from behind.
Little Dink was thrown into oncoming traffic. Much to my chagrin, I looked
behind me just in time to see my offender speeding off in the opposite direction.
I sat, stunned. Did that really just happen?
I frantically called 911.
The poor lady asked me the same questions about four times. She couldn't
understand my words through the sobs.
If I didn't fully believe in the total depravity of man last week, I sure do now.
The ten minutes I sat in my car waiting for the police officer to arrive, I
couldn't help but be ridiculously pissed off.
There's no better word to describe my emotions at that moment.
Hot tears ran down my face as I contemplated the wickedness of the human race.
How EVIL does someone have to be to speed away, not owning up
to his actions? I would have been nice. I wouldn't have bitten you.
Alas, I'm not so different from the man driving the red truck.
I sin, and I run away from it. I don't want to be found out. Instead,
I flee from the Lord and hide in my filth, my iniquity.
And I do this every day.
My dad reminded me that everything happens for a reason. God is good
and He protected me this morning. I actually have a lot to be thankful for,
because it could have been a lot worse [especially since I was thrust into oncoming traffic].
I could be sitting in a hospital garb, having my mom type this depressing blogpost for me.
But God be praised, I am in one piece and so is Dink. We're just
a little shaken up. So maybe I'm not cursed, maybe there isn't
some crazy girl working Vodoo on a small version of me.
I'm really just blessed, with a God who protects and provides.
So... the moral of the story is never ever ever leave money in your car.
And always always always get the license plate number.
Oh and be grateful because it could have been worse.