Now, not so much.
Two weeks ago (a Wednesday), I was finally offered full-time permanency at work. Salary, benefits, the works. I was more scared than excited, but I'm really happy about it now. I worked some unpaid time so I could get some day's off for Lew's upcoming wedding, then I'll get two weeks paid vacation every year! Whoo!! Not quite the summers off I would have had teaching, but still: Whoo!!
Last week (Wednesday) I bought a condo. I put the offer in on Tuesday, they countered, and I accepted. I close on August 22nd, but probably won't get in there completely before September. Maybe by the long weekend. It's a two bedroom, with a full bath, kitchen, dining room, and living room. I have a free parking space and a much shorter commute. I'll even be able to take the bus if I want!
Now originally, these two happy Wednesday incidents were supposed to make up the bulk of a fabulous, exciting post about how I'm going to start living an adult life.
Then yesterday (Wednesday) happened.
It was a day like most others. I was bored at work, and played an addictive game called High hat. I was supposed to leave at 4 to get measured for my bridesmaid dress for Lew's wedding, but she called in the morning and asked if we could postpone until Monday. I was fine with that.
Except it ended up allowing what follows to happen.
I left to go down to my car at about 4:45. I'm on the 8th floor of an office building that sits on top of a 5-floor parkade. I had 13 floors to get through on the elevator to 'A' level where my car was parked. I know what you're thinking, "Oh, no! She got stuck on the elevator!" Nope. Worse. By far.
As I approached my car, I saw glass on the ground. I looked around for the source of the glass and was dismayed to discover that it was from my car. Someone had broken the vent window on the driver's side rear door. Normally, there's virtually nothing in my car all day while I'm at work, thought I occasionally leave stuff in there without a second thought.
Yesterday, I had a grocery bag with two pairs of sneakers and a backpack in the back seat because I was planning on staying at deadwriter's that night. Whoever broke in, opened the back door lock to get in, took my back pack (left the $200 worth of sneakers), opened the front door lock, and went in the front seat to root around. They took the head-set for my cell phone, which was folded up on the ash tray, but they left all the change in the cupholder. They opened the glove compartment, but didn't take anything (not my registration, not my restaurant coupon book, not my SPARE KEY). At first, I was so baffled by what they took and left behind that I didn't notice the most obvious (and most upsetting) thing until much later.
I called my dad and he came down with me. I called the parkade security and they came to take pictures and get a statement. I called the police and filed a report with them (required in the event that I charged the repairs through my insurance).
It wasn't until all this was over and I drove home that I discovered the true cost of the break in. I don't care if that sounds over-dramatic. It's the worst thing they could have done. They stole my CDs.
I think there were about 14 of them in my car. About half were mixed CDs made by either deadwriter or me. Then there was the good stuff. The latest Duran Duran that Mom gave me last Christmas, the Matt Mays CD Lew gave me two years ago at Christmas and the worst of all... 6 of my 7 signed Matthew Good CDs.
Needless to say (though I'll say it anyway), I'm upset. I probably cried for close to two hours last night. I feel more confused than violated. And extremely disappointed that I have no way of replacing them. The only one I didn't lose is the second-oldest that I got the Christmas before he came in May 2004 (see #5). That's when I got this picture taken.
I don't have a way to properly convey my heartbreak.
The other CDs I'll get over. Even the one's deadwriter gave me (sorry, d) because I know he'll keep making CDs for me because he loves me. But the CDs aren't just the music, they remind me of the experience. Of the first time I saw him live in Vancouver. Of that time on the Hill when he played a grand total of 6 songs and I got kicked in the nose in the mosh pit. Of 2 nights in a row at the shows in May to hear him, and to wait outside his bus to get all my CDs signed, plus my ticket stub for a co-worker who couldn't go, plus going back the next night not just to hear his music, but also because I was stupid and needed another chance to bring my camera so I could get a picture. And then October when I just had the one CD (his latest).
I could write about this all night, but I won't. I'm sad. And some people are stupid and I hope bad things happen to them. Because I'm not perfect, but I don't think I deserved this. :(