Since around Christmas the outer door handle on the driver's side door of my car has been broken. Like completely snapped off and not functioning. Anyway, I had to climb across seats in order to get in the car until it finally stopped snowing, when I started leaving the window down just enough for me to squeeze my arm in and open the door from the inside. But then it snowed again, and instead of crawling across seats again, I decided to park down in the garage and leave my window down a little still.
Anyway, when I got down to my car yesterday evening to drive over to Megan's to watch the kids while she and Jared went to dinner, I noticed the door was unlocked. At first I thought maybe I'd just forgotten to lock it-- until I noticed my gloves were sitting on the passenger seat instead of in the glove box and that the sweatpants I'd been covering my seat with so I didn't sit in snow the day I forgot to park in the garage were also on the passenger seat.
I was a little nervous that they had taken something, since all my past experiences of people breaking into my parent's cars involved something being taken. But as I put all the strewn-about things back where they belonged, I realized nothing was gone.
They didn't take my $5 sunglasses held together with a paperclip. They didn't take my ancient cassette adapter or any of the homemade tapes. They didn't take any of the old clothes I have in the back seat waiting to be gotten rid of. They didn't take the Hitler Ghoulie. They didn't even bother taking my radio with the #1 preset button missing. Nope, I guess I found a good reason to no longer quote Ron from Goblet of Fire when he says, "Why is everything I own rubbish?" Actually, I'm rather glad of it.