Everyday is new and exciting in this ‘neck of the woods.’ If my plants aren’t pulled from the soil, the patio umbrella is lying on the grass feet from its heavy base; many times even the base is thrown asunder.
I’ve picked up that base multiple times, it’s not light. Only tornadic winds could pull the base from the concrete. Or an angry idiot?
Anyway, today is no different in terms of destroying property. My brother asked could he borrow my tablet. He broke his.
Weeks ago, he asked if I’d let him have my tablet because I never use it. I refused.
I’m giving the tablet to my grandson, for play. To learn on.
I imagine the goal today is to break mine, too. So, I’ve nothing to give to my grandson.
Anyway, the tablet cord to charge the damn thing has vanished. The green box, tablet still covered in plastic, is here. Cord gone.
I know he took the cord. Because I’m not using my tablet.
I crossed every possible hiding place, there’s no cord in this apartment.
Which is good. Now I know, the cord was stolen.
This tablet thing is not isolated. I’m always missing something. If there’s a specific pair of Jean’s, blouse, jacket, that flatters me; that item disappears or a bleach stain appears.
I noticed this clothing hack several years back. When the tall suede black boots I enjoyed weren’t returned for one plus years. I knew where they were, but was told “there not here.”
Over a year later, “Are these yours? I wasn’t sure.”
Yeah, right. The same boots I was told weren’t there.
I’ve had expensive underwear cut down the side. Two pairs cut in the exact same spot with a perfect straight line. No doubt done intentionally with scissors.
Okay, enough of that weirdo freak stuff. This stalker means real business. I think he’d steal my eyeballs from their sockets if he could. Then he’d say, “Wasn’t Me.”
Geez, what a loser.
You’d think people as this would be better than that. Don’t they care about their mothers and fathers, grandparents, aunts and uncles reputations?
I’ve now started a notepad list of things I’m missing. I’m not replacing anything. And will update those missing items weekly.
Journaling is a fantastic record-keeper.
Just last week, I returned from daughters home, to find my computer cord was slit. Therefore, I couldn’t charge my laptop.
I was told by my daughter I left my other laptop cord at her house.
That’s not something I would do. But the cord isn’t here. So I must be ‘slipping.’ Yeah, right.
If there was one issue, then I’d say, “shit my memory isn’t as it once was,” but you know the patio items are routinely scattered, my clothes missing and destroyed. That adds up to a big fat rat!
The day has ten hours remaining; I wonder what’s next?