I Was Robbed!

Okay, that might sound more ominous than it really is.  It was fun to write, though.  Actually, no, it is ominous.  I got robbed.  

Here's the deal:  remember how I told you I love to take my coffee out in the mornings and enjoy my neighborhood?  Part of my peaceful mornings includes loving on my three big flower pots full of gorgeous, trailing blooms.  I feed them, I trim them, I talk to them like a crazy lady.  We have a bond.  Considering I have a black thumb of death and considering I bought the flowers almost 2 months ago, the fact that they're still alive is a miracle.  I firmly believe, because I've seen it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears, that plants shudder and murmur, "Not me!  Not me!  Please don't pick me!" when I go to the store each spring to pluck them from their greenhouse glory and take them to my Garden of Doom.   

I had a point.  Oh, yeah.  The robbery.  

This morning, I opened the curtains to welcome the day, and two of my flower pots were missing!  What?  I circled the house.  I peeked on my neighbor's porches.  I whined to my husband.  All of it was in vain.  My pots were gone.  Swiped right off my front porch, sucked into the night.  Oh, the horror!  The heartbreak!  The creepy, icky feeling of being totally violated!  

It turns out, my neighbor noticed a car late last night driving slowly by my house.  Said car drove by twice, stopped, paused long enough to grab the pots, and then sped off.  She got the make and model but no license plate.  Believe me, anyone who drives a late 80's, reddish Honda Accord hatchback with flip up lights and a hood bra better beware.  I'm on the lookout for you and your flower pot stealing jerk face pals.  And my gnome.  It's just not right to steal a lady's garden gnome, especially when her chair tried to eat her the day before.  

Speaking of eating, this is normally the time I turn to Snickers for comfort.  As it turns out, God  (or the universe, however you're inclined) decided to test my newfound discipline by sending the dingleberry-eating thieves just to see how I would cope.  I ate a salad.  I am not happy about it, but I did.  I still want a Snickers.  And a shotgun.  And cake.  Oh, geeze, where's the celery?  Help!  

In case you're wondering, I did file a police report.  I was scared to do it because speaking to strangers on the telephone gives me major anxiety and takes me to the Place of Panic.  Imagine my joy and relief when I saw you could file your report right online.  I'm hoping to be bumped to the top of their list of Most Important and Immediate Cases.  After all, when they gave me a drop down menu to choose the items that had been stolen, flower pots weren't even on there.  That has to make this a curious case and therefore a priority, right?  

Hey, I can't have Snickers.  Just let me dream.