Cleolinda Jones (cleolinda) wrote,
Cleolinda Jones
cleolinda

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So, uh, someone up the street just rang our doorbell and said, "I was coming home and noticed that your car, the one parked on the street, the window's been smashed in and it's raining and all, so... I thought you might want to know about that." Indeed. And it's my car--the one I am theoretically going to be able to drive one day, as soon as I stop having panic attacks at complex intersections.

My mother is LIVID, and if you remember The Sonic Incident, you may understand that this does not bode well. I'm strangely unemotional about it--more curious as to who did it, and whether it was a bizarre accident or a purposeful strike, and if the latter, why? We've got some champion Ding-Dong-Ditch players down the street that my stepfather's going to instruct in the ways of pain if he can ever lay hands on them, and I'm kind of wondering if it was them. But why would they be out in the rain on Christmas Eve? And if it was a drive-by accident, how the hell do you smash in a window, just a window, on accident?

The truth is, I've been in an awesome mood the last day or two, partly because of what I think I'm going to end up doing this semester--I can't talk about it now, but it's both total awesomeness and a big relief. And I hate to say it, but I have to admit: as guilty as I feel about that car sitting there, racking up insurance payments while I'm not driving it (at least it's secondhand, not new), I probably don't feel deep and furious anger because I don't drive it, and I don't depend on it. I feel like it's happened to someone else's property, honestly. I'm more afraid of the discussion and resentment on the You Don't Even Drive It front that's probably going result because of this (even though me driving it would not have magically prevented the window-breaking, and if I didn't have a car at all, it would have happened to my sister's car two feet ahead, and she really does depend on hers). I feel awful in some peripheral way, like I should be apologizing for something.

(No, I don't think I'm being targeted personally. Even if I am, it's as [Real Name], not as Cleolinda Jones, and I can't imagine why anyone would target [Real-Name Me], or even know where I live, anyway.)

So... yeah. Merry Christmas, you guys.


ETA: Aaaaand the police are here. It's becoming increasingly obvious that it was not an accident.


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Tags: appropriate responses to bad situations
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