Monday, October 4, 2010
The Handbag of Glory was violated on Saturday. My beautiful, softly glowing, red purse was molested by foreign hands; touched without honoring it's beauty; regarded by an evil eye.
When I returned to my, locked, automobile after an absence of less than twenty minutes, my wallet (purse) was on the front seat beside my purse (handbag). My heart sank as I reached to verify what I already knew. Someone had filched my cash.
For those of you who do not know me, I am very conscientious about details. I lock my car, I do not leave my wallet beside my purse. I put things back where they belong and manage to keep track of where things are without resorting to straightening-compulsions.
When I had driven into the parking lot in front of our new building a brief time before, I had noticed a gathering of "Semi-Simian Yahoos" hanging out together close by. Apparently, a neighboring business, specializing in forklift repair and maintenance, had allowed an employee to live in an RV on site and that had blossomed into a Saturday afternoon party with grubby, glassy-eyed, bearded-wonders, of an age that should have known better, hugging beer cans and leaning in and out of multiple pick-up trucks and work vans, strewn any which way but straight.
Our entrance is fifty yards away, the roll-up door was open and my husband was on our forklift unloading a truck full of palettes. I parked to one side of the door, pressed the electronic lock on my key chain and went inside to see how things were going.
I had had a moment's doubt about leaving my purse in the car, due to the "Elements" in the neighborhood but I had reprimanded myself for stereo-typing and shrugged off my suspicions.
Someone was more alert than they looked, scoped out his lovely prey on the front passenger seat and must have been adept with a Slim-Jim. The movie title "Gone in Sixty Seconds" comes to mind.
I am grateful that only cash was taken, and not much of that. I still have my check book and credit cards. The thief purloined more than money. He appropriated my happiness. "The Handbag of Glory" has had it's magical spell overshadowed by a dark, lurking presence. I don't have to see oily fingerprints to visualize them in my mind.
I have to get over this and take back the power. What better antidote to evil than kittens?
When Sparkles went to kitten boot-camp and "The Handbag of Glory" was very new, I visited the five furry felines to see how they were progressing. "The Handbag of Glory" was declared a kitten magnet and all kinds of climbing and playing took place in and around it. Resurrecting those photos has exorcised the evil. That and the visit the local police made to the "Yahoo Playground of Iniquity" late Saturday night, rousting one and all and apprising them of the local ordinance against RV camping. They have twenty-four hours to find a new home.
Maybe there's a Yahoo Rescue and Adoption Agency, I've never heard of, to help them find their forever homes. Maybe euthanasia has its positive side? Me? I prefer kittens.