Saludos,
Kass
In consideration of the powerful adage “Be careful what you wish for”, I haven’t yet told you what happened when living with my friend the week before leaving for Costa Rica. Here goes . . .
After an invigorating and especially joyous sunrise skipping session, I headed out searching for Karmalita to address the rather odious task of repacking my two 75 lb check-in bags. As I may have mentioned, I was still in the very beginning stages of packing my bags at my condo whenmy landlord’s wife arrived early. Incidentally, the gal I was planning to move in (in an hour) sent me an email saying “Oh, by the way, my landlord doesn’t want to make another key and he’s selling the place so I don’t think it’s a good idea that you stay”. Really? Ok, Plan B: I call my friend and she says she can be home in an hour and I can crash with her.
Back to the main story. I am generally very organized when I pack but the pressure of having my stuff strewn throughout my weary traveler’s/landlord’s studio space made me want to get the heck out of her hair ASAP. So, I tossed everything in haphazardly (clothes with hangers and all) and resigned to a repack later. As I lugged the bags into my trunk and backseat, I realized that they actually represented about 50% of everything I own at this point in my crazy life (clothes, books, electronics, toiletries, etc.) and happened to be worth many, many thousands of dollars.
So, anyway, I find Karmalita tucked away on a sidestreet, greet her, and open the trunk to find . . . a very large empty space. I just stood there in shock and then my hands started to shake. I actually tried to dial my friend to report the find but wasn’t able to do so and wouldn’t have been able to speak anyway. I took a shallow breath, wondered, and attempted to rationalize: Had I taken the bags out already while I was sleepwalking perhaps? Maybe I was the recipient of a great gag? Hmmm. Less than comforted by these thoughts and with increasing trepidation, I moved to the passenger side front door to find it (and all of the doors) unlocked. I then opened the back door to find the other large black bag missing. My heart sank further. This was not good.
The thought of anything being ripped off from sweet innocent Karmalita was devastating – and two days before I was leaving for Costa Rica! It had all made perfect sense in the planning stages when I had the bright idea to bring along everything but my work/dressy clothes/shoes/photos/writing/comforter/blanket for variety and practicality as there was no room left in my small storage condo closet and I vowed never to pay for storage again. Also, in case I was stuck somewhere in the event of the “Apocalypse”, I envisioned calmly departing in something rather stylish and quite possibly never even worn!
In any event, it was a rather disturbing, unnerving shocker at first to be certain but after a few minutes of tears and venting blended with a healthy reminder from my friend that now I “won’t have to worry about wearing the cowboy boots in Costa Rica to justify their trip”, I was happy and fortunate that I had my laptop, id/cc’s, and carry on. In the weeks leading up to this event, I recall that I was quick to brag that a recent article noted her exact make/model/color/style won the accolade “most stolen car in Hawaii”. Oh neato. Why the apparently naked, transvestite, snorkeling thieves left my surfboards, 3 golf clubs, tennis racket, large fluorescent pink flippers,and a host of other random items (that would have made for a very amusing scene in “The Jerk”) varying in monetary value and purpose, and for heaven’s sake Karmalita herself is beyond my capacity for understanding!! Again with the adage.
So, after a few hours of grieving, a few shots of wine, and a rather comical police investigation and report, it felt rather light and refreshing and it was quite a bonus that I didn’t have to check any bags! A few times the elation gave way to disgust as I remembered some favorite, meaningful, expensive items that were lost in the “bags” but soon one of my favorite phrases and means of comfort was to simply chuckle, smile, and sigh with an “Oh yeah, that was in the bag.”
In any case, I’m doing my best with working (and daily hand-washing) my “garanimal” outfits (remember those?) that survived the heist but eventually I broke down and began to replenish the scant inventory with some basic replacements. My pride and joy - and new favorite stylish outfit - consists of brown khaki shorts with a plethora of zippered pockets in a size too large so I feel like a teenage surfer dude, a t-shirt that reads “Sergeant Kitty” (Kitty being one of many nicknames christened to me by an adoring “fan” from back in the day), and a pair of very squishy spongy brown/tan medley flip flops which I was so excited to wear that I did the switcharoo on the sidewalk right outside of the store - and with wild abandon allowed the homeless man next to the shop (who needlessly helps people from the bakery back into the street) to take a break to assist me as he clearly noted my enthusiasm by the broad, stupid grin on my face and the cackle in my voice.
Total cost for above said getup: Just shy of $8. Experience Factor: priceless
So, there’s a story I hope brightens your day and makes you smile.
Moral and Reminder: Don’t get attached to things. Experience, enjoy, be thankful for all you have in each and every moment, and (per my Papa) never forget your sense of humor!!!
Love to All!
Me
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