Humorous observations of a post-burglary world

You know, things really wrapped up quickly following the Christmas creep's invasion into our home. The police did their thing (no one caught, of course), the insurance peeps did their thing (sizable check deposited yesterday), my hubby did his thing (new door/locks installed), and I did my thing (namely, cleaning).

Really, I feel pretty good about the whole thing, not to mention the picture clarity on our new TV is fantastic!

But, I have to say, there are some funny-ish things to come out of a place of heightened awareness (or PTSD in disguise, perhaps)...

1. The clientele at Wal-Mart just became even more, ahem, "special" to me. Everywhere I look, I see potential masked bandits. Even the old ladies zooming around in the powered carts have a "Bonnie" (as in "& Clyde") look to them. Though this sounds a tad like paranoia, these observations actually make me laugh out loud sometimes as I stuff yogurt and 35-calorie bread in my overflowing cart.
   
2. Do you know how many people drive trucks in the country? Our perp supposedly drives a small, two-wheel drive truck, and I now give the evil eye to all unsuspecting drivers I pass in Toyota Tacomas and Chevy Colorados. That's a lot of glaring! It's un-American, too, I suppose, since folks are technically innocent until proven guilty. I'll have to work on that.
   
3. I discovered a few weeks ago that I overlooked a stolen item. As I held two frozen cinnamon waffles in my hand intended to be Noah's breakfast, I became confused when I couldn't locate the toaster on my always-messy counter. Alas, it was missing. Our man must be a dedicated bagel fan! Seriously, who the heck steals cheap toasters?! Sadly, it was brand-new since ours died in November! Ah, irony.
4. It has crossed my mind several times that people—including our dear intruder—saw my house in an absolute mess. I'm sure you're all familiar with the explosion that happens on Christmas morning and turns your otherwise clean house into a disaster zone. That was the state I left the house in when I took off for my folks' house. That means our robber waded through the strewn toys and decorative stockings (and seems to have gingerly stepped around them) and the police had to investigate with a sink full of dirty dishes. I am both bewildered and humored by my embarrassment at a dirty house in this particular situation. 

You know what else is funny? Watching me reacquaint myself with David's high-caliber pistol that he insists is more efficient to stop an intruder than the .22 I prefer—the same caliber as my 4-H camp rifle, which I'm assuming is why David feels it may lack "oomph." That one's still on the to-do list...