∑ilage

A long time ago, i was at the little rock airport dropping my brother off for a flight he had to take. When i returned to my car (88 cadillac sedan deville), it was clear that someone had broken into my dear ghettolac. the rear right door was left open and my stuff had obviously been rifled through. But nothing had been taken. Not even my old polar fleece jacket, not even my cds.

it dawned on me then that i need not fear theft, because i had nothing valuable to steal. i was comforted by this zen-like emptiness reminiscent of winston the cat.

today, i noticed that my bike had been stolen off my porch. It was just gone. When i walked out to the place where it used to be though, i noticed 100 feet to my right that my bike was crashed on the ground in front of the neighbor's house.

you see, my bike did not have a functioning chain, had two flat tires, and no machinery to bring about any kind of gear change (it disassembled itself and tumbled into the street this spring). so the would-be theif probably stumbled and cursed for about 30 meters before giving up and throwing my bike into the mud.

so i walked over to my poor baby, picked it up, carried it home, and hooked it back up to my porch. it will now continue in its role of letting me look at it and think about fixing it, as well as getting rained and snowed on.

hooray for me! i just hope i never have children.