Mirror Mirror

Our truck got broken into last night.

In a way I'm not suprised; twice in the last month we've come out to the blue car inthe am and found our glove compartment rifled through and all of our loose change missing. Irritating, to be sure, but not really a big deal. Husband and I are really good about not leaving anything of value in the cars, which we never lock. The theory is that if they REALLY want to steal something, at least this way they won't break a window to do it, thereby incurring more costs.

We'd come home lateish last night. Husband grabbed Mags and took her sleeping form upstairs to her room. I grabbed a load of crap and locked the doors, because I knew my wallet was floating around in the cab somewhere. Once Mags was down. Husband and I both got sucked into our respective games of online solitaire and left the unpacking for the morning.

Come morning, I asked H to get my meds out of the truck while i got a naked Mags diapered and dressed. He came storming back into the house, screaming. "Those bastards! Those fucking bastards! I'm gonna kill them!" He then proceeded to beat the floor for a while and actually cried out of frustration and anger briefly. TUrns out, yes, we'd locked the doors, but neglected to notice that one window had been left open about 4", or enough to stick your arm in and open the door from the inside. We did an inventory and figured out they'd grabbed his backpack, which had my wallet and meds, and his cell phone, which had been charging. All in all, not a huge take, but enough to make our lives miserable. So, we cancelled the few credit cards I had with me, figured out how to get a new driver's licence, called the cops to file a report (they came out and took prints - very Dragnet!) and cancelled his cell phone. Life goes on. Well, life goes on with a healthy dollop of plotting nasty revenges and tortures.

But I have to admit, there were a few minutes in there - when I realized my day was now filled with all the things I have to do to replace everything in my wallet PLUS all the stuff I had wanted to accomplish before my aunt came out to visit; I'm PMSing, bloating like a beached whale, still feeling run down from my cold, and now it looks like I won't have any of my meds today; comforting H while simultaneously trying to deal with Mags who was whiny for no apparent reason - that all I could think of was, "Well, shit; who's gonna comfort ME?!?" I mean, I'm really proud of the fact that I can hold it together in a (kinda) crisis, but at the same time I resented it. I probably wouldn't have felt quite so put upon had I been a) healthy, b) not about to expode in a bloody flood like the elevator doors in The Shining c) been able to take my meds. Blah perfect storm blah. Anyhow, the feeling passed, and I put on my Big Girl Panties and just dealt with it. H calmed down quickly, Mags got over the fact that her feet were touching the carpet (or whatever imagined trauma she was having at that moment,) most of the details got ironed out, and the ones that didn't? Well, I'll just deal with them tomorrow.

But afterwards, it made me wonder: Jesus. Is that the role H had to play for SEVEN YEARS before I got onto meds? Damn. I cannot imagine. And I mean that completely and seriously - I cannot imagine. Again I realized that for all the times I have and will grumble about my Hubby, he is an incredible man and loves me more than I can still possibly imagine.

Kisses, Hunny Bunny.