It's getting kind of creepy.
Near as I can tell, someone has been breaking into the car - almost every other day.
I notice this, not because of what's gone. I notice this because of what's added.
I know: sounds crazy.
Most thieves break into vehicles because they want to grab something: the coins in the console, the golf clubs in the hatchback, the parcel on the back seat.
That's not the way our thief works. Nope. This bandit has a peculiar modus operandi. When no one is looking - in the middle of the night, I am guessing - he will enter the vehicle and deposit a range of things I don't want. Empty water bottles. Ball caps. Golf gloves. Coffee to-go cups. Smelly runners. Wrappers from fast-food hamburgers.
They'll be on the floor and the dashboard and the passenger seat.
I know: weird, huh? Even weirder is the fact there's never a sign of forced entry. This thief, who should probably be referred to as an anti-thief, must have magic fingers, because he gets in the car, no problem.
You might suspect the anti-thief is possibly someone who has keys to the vehicle, along with permission to drive it.
Highly doubt this, since the only other people with keys are my husband and sons, and they know how nutso I get when I discover that someone's mistaken the interior of the car for a garbage can. They know when I use the car and return to the driveway, I like to empty the vehicle of odds and ends before I enter the house. They know I'd rather like them to do that too.
And I know they'd never lie to me.
"Hey," I said to the husband the other day. "I think that anti-thief might have hit us up again last night."
"Really?" he said, glancing up from his magazine. "What makes you think that?" "Because there's a newspaper in the back. And some wrapping from a Big Mac. And a bottle of Gatorade. I think we should start reporting this."
"Hold on," said the husband. "You can only charge people with taking things. Not with giving you things."
"But we don't want these things," I said. "Wait a minute. Didn't you go to McDonald's yesterday?" "I don't think so," said the husband. "McDonald's isn't very good for you."
As I said: he'd never lie to me. And neither would the kids.
