I don't deserve anything I have. What to do, what to do.

In the early hours where last Friday night turned into last Saturday morning, Roomie Heckle called on the cell and roused me out of an alcohol and Benedryl stupor (and I probably shouldn’t be combining those two, but I’m still here so hey, praise God!) to inform me that someone had broken into the house. Further conversations through the weekend revealed that the bad guys did the deed at 4pm on Friday afternoon, so even if I had been living at home instead of the housesitting house, it wouldn’t have changed anything, except my stuff would have been stolen with Roomie Heckle’s.

But no. I’m here with Basil and Ginger Puppy. My computer, my camera, my ipod, even my external hard drive, all here with me. It took me a day to remember my jewelry, though, and I called Roomie Heckle on the cell to try and direct him to the location of said stuff in the bathroom. Roomie Heckle is a clinically diagnosed ADD head with no insurance, and therefore no medication, so needless to say, he couldn’t find it, and got pissed off that I even asked him to look.

So the jewelry was gone. Which bummed me out, and I felt completely unjustified that I was bummed. My parents had given me the jewelry over the course of my high school years. They were my birthstones, aquamarines. A necklace, earrings, a bracelet. I loved them dearly because they were unique, and my parents gave them to me, and I really don’t need jewelry gifts for the rest of my life, because I’ve got my “luckies,” my aquamarines, which I bring out on special occasions, and if this event has taught me anything, it’s that I needed to wear them MORE, because you never know when two punks are going to break into the house you’ve lived in for years and years without incident and spirit them away to pay for their crystal meth addiction.

I immediately wanted the power to curse the Luckies. Those Luckies are only Lucky when they’re with ME! If anyone else touches them, especially if anyone steals them, they are officially cursed and will bring nothing but DOOM to whoever touches them. That means you, Crystal Meth Punk. That means you, Pawn Store Owner because you know the Crystal Meth Punks didn’t just happen to come in with an aquamarine set because they bought it for their girlfriend who didn’t want them. That means you, Pawn Store Shopper, knowing that such a nice jewelry set in a seedy Pawn Shop didn’t get there by willing means. The Luckies are doomed. DOOMED. They will bring DEATH to you until you give them back to ME, in one of those twisty turny ways that independent films are made of! Muah ha ha ha HA!

I had all this petulant bratty anger, which was completely unjustified, and I couldn’t get rid of it. How dare I mourn the loss of my Luckies when I still have my computer, my camera, my Ipod. In the grand scheme of things, the loss of the computer would absolutely have been more devastating. So why am I whining about the loss of jewelry? Be happy! Rejoice! Praise God! Forgive the Crystal Meth Punks! You have your health!

I couldn’t get to the house until this past Sunday, and no later than five seconds after I walk in the house, there’s a knock on the door. My neighbors are there with a breathless report of what they saw that day, and how they’ve given their statement to the police, and they’re so sorry this happened, and they’re trying to be vigilant, and we need to get our landlord to put bars on the window, to cut away the tree in the yard, la la la. I am stunned that my neighbors care this much (though one of them calls another one “Nosy,” but in this case, Nosy works.) You don’t expect to have such helpful neighbors in Los Angeles. It’s rare that anyone talks to their neighbor in Los Angeles, much less write down what bus the Crystal Meth Punks got on when they got out of the house. I thank them profusely, and when they’re gone, go to the bathroom to check on the drawers.

And the Luckies are there. They’re there, in a box in a box at the back of one the bathroom drawers. Roomie Heckle’s ADD clouded his vision, and the Luckies are safe and sound, as they always were.

So now I just feel like a dumbass. A bratty dumbass. I don’t deserve to have anything, and yet I have everything, and I don’t deserve a speck of it. I am blessed but I am not worthy. It’s a little difficult to skip through life knowing you don’t deserve anything that you have. You want to enjoy these things, but you feel guilty for doing so. I wonder where the line is. Yes, you may enjoy this, but no, you may not take them for granted.

Oh trust me, I was talking to God the entire time about it. When I thought the Luckies were gone, when I discovered they were still there. “ThankyouGod,thankyou. ThankyouGod,thankyou.” Has become every third breath I take these days. Maybe it needs to be every second breath. Hmmmmm.

Enforced Secret Joy #52 – I’m not working today! I have stuff to do tonight, but I’m not working today, and I’m blogging with this as my view! That water’s damn cold, lemme tell ya! That’s Ginger Puppy! Waiting for me to stop typing and start petting her! I told ya she had eyes! ThankyouGod,thankyou. ThankyouGod,thankyou. ThankyouGod,thankyou