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just another day in park x
My dad was flying to Toronto for the weekend so he offered to let me have his car. I was excited because it meant that I could drive all 7 loads of laundry to the laudromat, instead of making 4 trips on foot. That's when I realized I have become the most boring person ever. I also used the car to go shopping, and I bought a kneel-chair and an air purifier. Which: boring and boring. (Although honestly I am very excited about the chair. Which I am sitting in now. And which is lovely.)
I was late picking my dad up from the airport today because someone blocked the car in in the alley behind the laundromat, but luckily his plane was late too, so I was right on time. We stopped at the laundromat on the way back to my apartment and picked up my 7 loads of laundry, which were mostly dry, and then he came in and I made him some tea and we talked about arguments to counter the arguments against equal marriage. And then he left to go home.
And then 5 minutes later he knocked on my door and said he had a bit of a problem: his suitcase was no longer in the car. His guitar was. And his backpack was. But his suitcase had disappeared. Probably stolen in the alley by the laudromat earlier, and we hadn't noticed. We went back to the laundromat, but of course it wasn't there. I felt super guilty for not reminding my dad to lock the car, because I know that he never ever does. Because he lives in a small town where people don't steal cars. I usually bug him about it and he acts all put-upon. But this time I forgot, because I was thinking about the joy of having no dirty laundry.
Speaking of which, the suitcase had nothing in it of value other than my dad's dirty laundry. Somehow this made the crime even more frustrating. Why steal something that was of no value to anyone but my dad? Why steal the suitcase but leave the guitar? My dad wanted me to call the police, but I was all, Pshhh. It's just a suitcase and some dirty clothes. Fat chance that'll turn up anywhere. (Plus I do not like dealing with the police.) I told him where the police station was, in case he wanted to go himself.
An hour later, I was on the phone with my sister, telling her the whole saga, (my sister bought a goldfish yesterday and named it Marmalade, which is probably the best name for a goldfish ever. Also, next week is Carnaval*), when there was another knock on my door. It was my dad. Again. Saying he'd found his suitcase. Where?! I asked him. Oh, he said nonchalantly, in the basement of an apartment building a few blocks over.
The landlord of the building had seen someone run in which a suitcase, go through it quickly, and run away without it, so he'd called the police. So my dad was reunited with his new jeans and his favourite slippers. Yay, a happy - yet extremely random - ending! Frankly, I think it is weirder and more disturbing that he found his stuff again than that it was stolen.
Anyway, since we all know I like to find the moral to every story, the lessons to be learned from today are as follows: 1. My dad has unbelievable karma. 2. Never leave your car doors unlocked in the city. Especially in an alley, in a poor neighbourhood, at night. 3. Sometimes the police are useful, so it is maybe a good idea to get over your hatred and fear of them. Because if that had been my suitcase I would never have gotten it back.
* This will probably be interesting only to readers who went to my high school: They have all these weird new events at Winter Carnaval now. Like, a lip synching competition (which my sister is doing), and a puzzle making competition (???), and what my sister referred to as "a wigger dance-off." And ice carving, I think! AND SLEIGH-RIDES! WITH HORSES! And other activities I've forgotten. Plus all the good old stuff that we used to do too, like broomball and wheelbarrow races and tug of war. Ooh, I forgot to ask if they still do that weird lumberjack competition. For someone who mostly hated high school, and almost never participated in any carnaval events, I sure am feeling nostalgic right now. And shafted.
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