Someone broke into Joel's car AGAIN yesterday by throwing a rock through the window. We finally figured out what they stole last time (his iPod) even though they left the GPS device. This time they took a plastic cup (Dunkin Donuts or similar) full of loose change. He was like, "Well, at least I have quarters for the vacuum this time... Oh for crying out loud."
The guy at the chop shop where he went for the replacement window the first time laughed at him.
Also? I set my work cell phone (the expensive one that replaced the original that I accidentally got doused with Diet Coke during the SATC tour with Tara and Shannon) on the counter of a deli. In the time it took me to turn around to grab an ice tea out of the refrigerator, the woman ahead of me in line grabbed my phone thinking it was hers.
I didn't notice until two hours later. I called it until it died, tore the car and camera/laptop/video gear bags apart. Luckily, the woman sheepishly brought it back to the deli later that day, but they had no way of figuring out whose it was because it was dead. I got it back, but the whole experience made me want to punch myself in the head repeatedly.
Hate that we're like this. HATE IT. Do you know what I would give to have just one week, just one day, to be normal? I mean, I'll never be NORMAL. I know that. I've made my peace with that.
For instance, this morning Joel asked me what time he should set the alarm for, and I kept answering, "Mr. Salman Rushdie."
Joel: "Listen to me. That is not a time. I need you to tell me a time you want to wake up."
I don't mind being quirky. That said, I don't actually want to wake up at Salman Rushdie O'Clock. For one thing, the ayatollah would be very displeased. I just want to buy iced tea without losing another damn cell phone.