the rest of yesterday

While I’m still sort of digesting Kurt Vonnegut’s death, I thought I’d post on the other part of yesterday…the part that happened before 7:15am. What? Before 7:15 AM? Yes. A.M.

Phone calls at 5:30 am are never good. So when I was roused out of a deep sleep by the phone, I was braced for the worst. It wasn’t the worst (no one had died…remember, I didn’t learn about mr. v until 2 hours later)—but it wasn’t good. The alarm company was calling from work–there had been an intruder and could I please meet the officers at the building? how long would I be? what kind of car would I be driving?

Wow. I live 4.5 minutes from work, automatically nominating me the ’emergency contact’. I don’t actually get the first phone call, but anything time sensitive gets referred to me. So I drove to work, in the dark, to see what there is to see. The phone rang at 5:30 exactly. I pulled into the parking lot as the clock was turning 5:40. A.M.

Remember those “this is your brain on drugs” fried egg commercials? Someone’s brain was obviously fried. They somehow managed to shatter a window, wander through the buidling a gather two bags worth of items…..then pile them into the front office and flee when the heard the sirens/saw the lights of the 5-0.

In the two bags worth of items???

1 cordless phone charger (the cordless phone was left on the counter)
2 walkie talkies and a charger
1 CD player
10 home-burned CD’s of classical music
1 silver dolphin bottle opener
1 can of frozen orange juice concentrate

I shit you not. Nothing was actually taken.

So my administrator arrives not too long after me, She beings damage control and I begin actual clean up–shattered glass was EVERYWHERE. I filled an desk sized wastebasket with shards of glass.

A 7:15 am the “early ” (well on any other day) morning assistant arrived, and I drove home to get ready for the day and put on a bra. Turns out, in my haste at 5:30 am, I didn’t bother.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.