Yesterday, I arrived at work only to discover the doormat outside my salon had been stolen during the night. Stolen! Who steals a stupid, dirty, doormat? It wasn’t decorative; it was an absolutely basic, black rubber and carpet rectangle. I swear, if it’s not bolted down, somebody will take it. My neighbor’s mat was also missing. Can you believe it? I stood at the doorway and said out loud, though nobody was around, “I can’t believe this shit.” Bitch-dog-irritated by the pettiness of it, I dialed the local police and filed a complaint, shaking my head in disbelief as I gave the report. Who would do such a ridiculous thing? Who’s out there roaming the streets in the middle of the night?
When Lutrell got home from work, I told him what happened, reigniting my earlier ire. “Now what am I gonna do? If I replace it, then the pig will have a new one to sell at some flea market and get even more money. Where will it stop? Every week there will be another brand new mat of mine to hawk.”
His response was a sympathetic, “Oh no.” Then he offered, “Maybe a homeless person took it to get off the wet ground.”
This is why I love my husband so much. I suspect he’s absolutly right. It’s been raining like crazy the last couple of days. Now, not only do I want to replace the rubber-backed doormat, I want to add a blanket and a couple of pop-top cans of Dinty Moore stew.
I so have nothing to complain about.
Peace and good will to all during this season of wet and chilly dark days.
Snow man after dark
Thank you for this reminder.
Merry Christmas
Happy New Year
Rita Vail