Shattered.

This morning was the day after a Valentine's Day of singleness. For me, this means reminding myself that I am worth dating which means hairdryer, hair product, makeup, date-suitable outfit (a good date too, an outfit for someone I want to look good for). None of this lead-in is really that important, but it adds to the tension and frustration of what's to follow.

I walked out to my car in my long brown boots and when I arrived I realized that the back window of my car had been shattered. Nothing had been taken from my car (I know. Who doesn't want to steal Rosetta Stone French I audio cd?) I stared dumbly for a moment and realized I wasn't going to church, which was probably ok because when you get dressed up that nicely for church it makes you wonder why it is you go to church at all. I called the police and went inside. I changed clothes and waited (I read the summer issue of Poetry Magazine).

Young Officer Bo showed up at my door and took down all of the important information all while chewing tobacco. He asked about how long it had been since I had seen my window intact and since I hadn't driven my car on Saturday it had been quite awhile. The he asked if anyone had anything against me.

Here's where I realized I was a bit loopy. After the obvious answers (which if you know me are obvious), my next thought was about those cats. I imagined the cats devising a way to get back at me for interrupting their amorous encounter-- to take revenge for all of the hissing. Maybe, if the whole herd were together and the jumped simultaneously the force would be enough to shatter a window. Who knows what they are capable of? I decided not to tell Officer Bo. But I've got my eye on them, believe me.