The universe can go fuck itself right in its rosy red ass.
While my Mom, K. and A. were out buying flowers to take to the funeral tomorrow her fucking house was broken in to. Amazingly enough, they made a beeline right for her bedroom and only took the $500 of change she had in there. No electronics. No jewelry. No booze from the fully stocked bar.
Amazingly enough, there was another theft in the family a few weeks ago. Somehow or other, in that case, the ONLY stuff that was taken during that particular break in belonged to my nephew, who had left the stuff in the household while he went off to boot camp.
Did I mention that my nephew used to live in my Mother’s house, or that the place where his stuff was stolen from belongs to someone who had been in my Mother’s house with him?
Suspicious much? Me? No way.
This was an inside fucking job. Someone knew my Mom wasn’t going to be home (normally she’s working on Thursday) and knew exactly where she kept that money. There was NOTHING ransacked in her house. Nothing out of place except the things on top of the money.
I’m so fucking angry right now I can’t see straight…and I’m getting angrier writing about it, so I’m done.