As much as I never wanted this blog to turned into somewhere I simply ranted and raved about the problems of my life …

OH. MY. GOD. I’m totally going to do it anyway.

As if the stress in my life weren’t enough right now (though there was a big plus today when I passed my Series 31 in nine minutes - guess I do work best under pressure), some bloody asshole stole my car on Friday night. I know! You never think that’ll actually happen to you! And before you ask, yes, it was locked, and no, it wasn’t on some dark, deserted street. It was parked right in front of my apartment. Except, when Meg and I came out of the house on Saturday morning with the intention of heading out early to Virginia, a big, ugly, cyan van was parked in its place.

Argh.

Mege drove down to the wedding in her car after we’d done the whole police thing, and the wedding itself was beautiful and small. Unfortunately, the sores on my lips prevented me from imbibing in the open bar and champagne, but apart from that it was a really nice occasion, and let’s be honest, I’m really happy for my mom.

The police called me later on Saturday and let me know that the car had been recovered, but they were really evasive when I asked them questions as to its condition. The lieutenent on the phone said to me, “Erm, was anything wrong with the car before it was stolen?” I of course answered with, “Well, it made a weird humming noise when you reversed …” to which he responded, “Hmm.” Long pause. “Well, you’re going to have to come into the station tomorrow so we can have a talk about this.” That’s it. Very clear, yes? When we got back to Jersey on Sunday, then, we wandered over to the police station, where they directed us to come back between nine and five on Monday. So we went back to the station today, and they said to call between eight at night and four in the morning to make sure the ‘auto theft unit’ was on duty. I did that, and of course was directed to call back tomorrow at eight in the evening.

Nothing is ever easy! Just give me my car back and let me deal with it. I want to settle all of the insurance stuff and get this out of my mind.

As I told Meg this morning, maybe all the random crap that’s been happening to me lately just means that, next week, I’ll buy one of those scratchcards and win that “$1000 a week for life!” prize. Ooh baby.