It's been a static-filled week so far and it's only Wednesday.There's the saga of the cat which I wrote about yesterday. There's the quart of milk I had to pour down the sink because it had started to turn. (When it floats in your morning tea, you know it's time.) A small thing but considering it happened on the same morning I took the cat to the vet, I decided it was probably a warning of a cold front moving through the atmosphere of life.
Then this morning, my husband discovered we've had a second tool stolen from our property. This story starts about the time of my birthday when we realized that a cordless drill left on the floor of his company truck was gone.
This morning, it was a missing antique block and tackle which we use for moving really heavy stuff. It was taken from our unlocked garage. (No one locks much of anything around here, until now.) So I called the police. Not that we're going to recover the tools, mind you, but it adds to the saga of the thief—IF he or she is ever discovered.
Then when Goldie and I reached the north point of our land on our morning walk, I find a local professional fisherman, who's been chased off our land before, standing there giving a customer a lesson. When I point out that he's on private property, he says "Oh, I didn't see your signs."
Which means, of course, that he knew it was private property but just hoped he wouldn't be caught. Living on a river means too many people think your land is public so they leave trash and destroy plants because the land isn't theirs. For 16 years, we've been pushing back with no trespassing signs, and when things get rough, calling the police to have folks escorted off our property.
And I'd be willing to bet we've heard every dumb excuse for trespassing that has ever been devised.
Dealing with trespassers always makes me feel invaded. Add that to the cat going weird and the thefts and it's been a less than stellar week.
Sigh.
I think I need to go stroll in the garden.
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