17 = Stupid
That is it in its entirety. Back story? Read on.
We went away this weekend to the Sierras for some sledding. I was going to write about what a wonderful time we had. I was going to say how Pete and I can't recall the last time the five of us experienced such equal joy all at the same time. I don't think I'd have mentioned that I lost at gambling. I also don't think I'd have mentioned that my new camera broke and I'm glad that, for once, I broke down and put out $18 on an extended, comprehensive warranty on something I bought.
Instead, I will write how 17 = stupid. We all went away except for the dog. She needed a dog sitter, and we know a very reliable babysitter/dog sitter/house sitter. Let's call her, um, Sandra. ['Cause that's her name.]
We arrived home at about 3 p.m. today. Near immediately, Eldest went to put his money in his wallet and discovered it empty. $208 gone. Pete went to check his mad stash in his drawer. $210 gone.
My jewelry? All there. Unused credit cards? All there. Checkbook? There. Important documents? There. Just the money gone. Oh, and beer.
I called Sandra immediately, and she was shocked, shocked, shocked. I opened with, "Sandra, someone stole a lot of money from us. Who did you have over?" I knew it wasn't her. How do I know? 'Cause I know.
We talked several times over the next 30 minutes. Then I drove to her house to talk with her mother and bring her up to speed. I got the name of the girl who she had over. We'll call her Victoria. [Again, cause it's her name.] Victoria had her boyfriend and three other boys over. Sandra knew none of them.
Sleuth that I am, I tracked down Victoria's parents -- since Victoria wasn't returning our frantic, threatening phone calls. I left a message with them. It's 8:15 p.m. We've heard from Victoria, who professes to not know the last names of the four boys. "You're saying you don't know your boyfriend's last name?" Pete gave her 24 hours to produce the names and the cash. Her parents have yet to return my call. I do believe they are all at a family function, celebrating. I'm thinking Victoria ain't celebrating too hardily.
I've since discovered my video iPod is missing. And a plastic cup of pens. Say what? A plastic cup of pens? Oh, and all the beer in the fridge. And they made enough noise throwing a whiskey bottle down the street to get our crazy neighbor aware of what was going on.
We are so close to calling the cops. After I discovered the iPod was missing, I was tempted. And if we don't get the names of the boys, the iPod and the cash all back, we're going to the cops. I hate to do it because I hate to have Sandra dragged through it. She and her mother came over to talk to us and she's utterly devastated. The complete lack of trust we have in her. The fear of what else might have happened. Hello? Rape. Stolen jewelry. Stolen car.
I'm calling the locksmith tomorrow. We've promised her mother that we wouldn't call the cops until we talked with her again, after the 24 hour deadline is up. Her mother plans to make whole all the costs associated with this.
In part, I want vengeance. More, though, I'm afraid these people -- I don't even know who they are -- can just waltz in anytime and take our stuff. When the heat is off, you know? I guess it's not just vengeance I want. I want my security back.
[BTW, I turned on the comments for this post because I wanted to hear what you think about this. I was 17 once. I was stupid. Does this merit calling the cops?]