The Aftermath Has an Aftertaste of Dirt

24 Nov

I am woken up by my husband before nine this morning. His face looks weary. He is hoovering over me like he has something to tell me that he does not want me to know. I ask him if he picked up the car. He has picked up the car, but he has some bad news along with the good news.

I get up and snatch the keys from his hands. I slide my feet through my blue slip-ons and rush outside. There is the car. The car looks just as it always has. Beige, used, and oddly reliable. I cannot bring myself to place the key in the lock. I cannot bring myself to open the car door. I think of the scumbag breaking open my car door. The scumbag sitting in the driver’s seat of my car.

My husband comes over and opens the car door for me. The car looks as if a mini-tornado ripped through it. I feel violated. My stomach feels sick and I struggle to look through the mess. My son’s bike is in the trunk, but it is the only thing that was left. My running shorts, knee straps, my sports bra, weight lifting gloves, my running shoes, the toys we were going to donate, and my husband’s tool set are all gone. I become slightly dizzy. Who steals a pair of used running shorts? Who steals ripped weight lifting gloves? I am at a loss. I scream out some obscenities and slam the car door shut.

I had my workout stuff in the car because I was going to the gym right after I spent the afternoon with hubs. Otherwise, I would never just leave those things in the car. I do not typically use the car as a chest of drawers.

I feel violated. I am angry. I am grateful to have the car back, but then disgusted because I should not have to be grateful about that. No one should have to be thankful for getting their car back after it was stolen from them.

The cops told my husband, last night on the phone, that what saved us is that we had a practically empty tank. The lowlife only made it to the next town over. When the cops found our car, the engine was still warm.

I was upset last night. Then, I was thrilled to find out we would get the car back today. Now, after seeing the car, I feel disgusting. Someone ripped apart my car, looked at the items, and decided what was best to steal. I feel like the turkey carcass after a big Thanksgiving dinner; People picking the last morsels of meat and then they throw out the bones.

The lowlife stole the laundry basket in the trunk and filled it with the stolen goods. I can picture him riffling through my car and then fleeing in the night. But I cannot imagine how he (or she) feels. How does a person like that tick? Clearly that car is owned by a family. The loser stole our registration, took my id out of my gym stuff, and threw my son’s Disneyland hat in the trunk. That scum saw parts of us and we will never know who he is. We will never know why he did it or what he did with our stuff. This is what bothers me most. He broke in, took our mode of transportation, stole most of what was in it, and disrupted my family’s life.

I want to forget about all of this. I want to sit in front of  the television and veg. I want to eat junk food. I want a big bag of Jack in the Box. I want to stop being angry. I wish I could be more grateful that we have our car back. I am disappointed in myself. I do not know what to do. Handling emotions is not something I have ever been able to do.

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4 Responses to “The Aftermath Has an Aftertaste of Dirt”

  1. fitnessaficionada November 24, 2012 at 1:56 pm #

    I am so sorry that this happened to you!

  2. mycavegirllife November 25, 2012 at 6:26 pm #

    So terrible! What kind of a loser steals someone else’s workout clothes? Stay strong!

    • runnerheather November 25, 2012 at 10:03 pm #

      I am, thank you! I also have been wondering about that. What would that freak do with my sports bra and shorts? Oh well. I was mad but hubs reminded me that I now have a great reason to go shopping for new gear! (:

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