(For those not in the know, Jafa = Just Another Fxxcking Aucklander)
Guys, lock your doors. Seriously. I don’t care where you live or how nice your neighbourhood is. Just trust me, okay?
Lord, I haven’t felt this stupid or sheepish maybe ever. It really sucks when you take full responsibility for something so basic, so elementary, that in fact I have decided not to admit to what happened. Except to you lovely blog readers, obviously.
So, um, there’s no need to beat me up for my foolishness, yeah? I’ve already flagellated and lamented.
ANYWAY. Should you wish to ignore the above at your peril, here’s how to do it.
Sleep late. Contemplate calling in sick for a second, but realising you’re more or less better and don’t have the luxury of sick days to waste.
Rush out, trip over the step, shut the door, but decide there’s no time to fuss with key finding etc. Run for bus.
Come home to open door and billowing curtain. Thankfully you haven’t been cleaned out. Just a couple of conspicuous gaps where the TV and laptop were.
Laugh hysterically at the fact that your cosmetic bag was also inexplicably taken. Sorry punks, I don’t do jewellery, and all you’ll find is a purple plastic soap holder in there.
Scoff at the crackheads who didn’t take this, this, this, this and this, while being very grateful for the oversight.
Fume at the fact that your most recent financial info is gone. So much for October Type-A-tracking. Looks like that will be shunted over to November instead.
Feel ashamed that thieves saw house in this state. The I’ve-been-bedridden-and-nobody’s-cleaned-in-a-week-state. Clothes and towels are on the floor. Rubbish and recycling piled up in the kitchen. God knows what all over the floors.
Realise what a parlous grip on reality you actually have. Order pizza.