Wednesday morning.
5:00am. Paul is sick.
6:30am. TiVo died.
7:30am. We find that our 1995 Purple Ford Explorer (“Barney”) was stolen.
8:00am. Paul alerts work to a sick day due to his illness, TiVo’s death, and Barney’s capture.
8:30am. We amend the stolen report after I call the city towing company and find Barney.
What happened? We blocked off a large street area in front of the house to allow for the DuctBusters trucks. Paul moved them extra early Tuesday morning and did so somewhat hastely since he had to move both cars quickly so that the large DuctBuster trucks could get into the space. The street was very crowded with the dumpsters and equipment from the construction going on right now, so he had to park a little further down the street, where we don’t know the neighbors as well. He must have moved the truck somewhere that pissed someone off. We found out from the towing company that it was called in by a neighbor…! (Even the towing company thought it was totally ridiculous.)
The lesson? Be careful not to even touch on someone’s driveway. (We were called in by a neighbor… we’ve even met them briefly and I do Yoga at the same studio as the wife.) Paul swears he couldn’t have been that close, but admits he may have made a mistake and feels badly about it. What is troublesome is that even if he was partly blocking their puny, not-well marked driveway, the fact that they didn’t even go out to the street to ask around about who’s car was there is a serious bummer. Everyone around here knows us and our cars — especially the workmen, who are all over the place these days. Paul’s gone by three times to apologize and no one has been there. (Although our other neighbors agree that they should be apologizing to us!)
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