Beasts in the Garage

Last night as I carried the trash out, I realized that walking outside in the dark, in the desert, in bare feet wasn’t the smartest thing I could do, but I kept going.  I trust, out here in the dark – I trust that I won’t step on a scorpion, I trust that the snakes will stay at bay, and I trust that really, there is more good in the world than evil.  Yet, still thinking of the end of snake season, I rattled the gate before walking out and wasn’t surprised to hear a scurrying sound.  When I opened the gate I could see that the javelina had just been for a garbage can visit.  I righted the can, and picked up what I could, irritated for the trash but glad for the chasing away part.

Unfortunately, minutes later, I heard Phil growling, and the javelina I chased from the trash had just run to the front of the house, and was in the garage that I accidentally left open, having somehow pulled a rubbermaid tub of camp food off the shelf, and it had opened the tub, started eating the food and had spilled a bottle of vodka all over the garage.  It was the last straw, and both Phil and I RAURGHED in frustration.  I just wanted to yell “Everyone!  Get out of my house!”

As usual, of course, the javelina wasn’t really what was making us so exasperated, it was the beasts in the garage before that one that were the problem.  Last week, I came home to a house that was ransacked, and stuff that wasn’t here anymore. We were all packed up for a trip, which was awfully convenient for the people who decided to spend the afternoon harvesting our electronics and pick axing our gun safe.  They just threw in some more stuff, and drove off in our pre-packed truck.  In some ways, they were very nice thieves – they didn’t touch any of my stuff, and they were gentle with Phil’s taxidermy, which they moved in order to unscrew the wall mounted speakers for the stereo.  In other ways, they were a little mean, leaving the garage freezer open to defrost and making a big fat mess.  They did manage to knock over the safe (mean) but didn’t crack the tile (nice).

The worst of it was that instead of spending Saturday night curled up around hot cocoa with smore’s in the woods, we were rekeying the locks and wiping up fingerprint dust.  It wasn’t an even trade.

I struggle, irrationally, with the thought that we were asking for it.  We have stuff, and we aren’t here during the day, so why wouldn’t someone just stroll along and take it?  The thing is, I generally expect they won’t stroll along and steal from me for the same reason I walk barefoot in the dark in the desert.  I trust.  It is naive, I know.  And we paid for it last week.

Like all things, however, you need to make the best of where you end up.  For us, this week, the best of this situation is that every time we find something we thought we lost we are elated – Andra’s ipod which wasn’t on her desk, but buried under her covers in her bed, or my camera which wasn’t on the counter as I originally thought, but was in the bottom of my purse.  And tonight, best of all, Phil’s truck – which was less than a mile away, abandoned, with the keys, and the garage door opener and the really special stuff we couldn’t replace still in the back. 

It feels better just having the truck back and the safe upright again.  It feels better knowing that in the process of cleaning up and dealing with it all, we are better prepared than ever for the next break in (don’t even THINK about trying…).  And I feel good about being prepared so I can just get back to trusting again.

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