The Burlap Soulmate

It's been a busy day. I have a new sympathy for those of you who have ever had property stolen, vandalized, or otherwise destroyed. You feel a very deep anger and hatred for those responsible, as well as mortification at being violated, your private life exposed to some uncaring interloper. And how am I suddenly aware of this? This should give you a clue. It used to reside on our storage unit, until the other night when it was sliced open by a pair of bolt cutters. Turns out we were one of 24 other people who had their unit broken into. The weird thing is nothing was taken. Nothing. I can't tell you how relieved I am, given that my dad's former golf clubs were in there, right up front. I still play with them even though I probably shouldn't. They just remind me of him when I do. But I digress. There certainly wasn't anything of great value in the unit. I can just imagine the thieves' disappointment at the site of our most prominent item, a wooden banjo-playing hound dog I made as a silly present for Staz. They did make a mess of things, and it will probably take several hours to put everything back into some kind of order. But, at any rate, a new, improved, cutter proof lock now sits on our unit. (At least the guy at Home Dep@t said they were cutter proof) We are really unhappy with the management of this storage facility and how they handled this whole situation. Isn't this what we're paying $40.00 a month to avoid? I'm currently pricing other places. But there you have our afternoon. Staz even has her name on a Police Report. Just call her Victim #18.