You’ll all remember, I’m sure, the little piece of laundry madness of a few weeks past. Well, today I can go you one better. In my vain and slightly futile semi attempts to get my flat in parental visiting order I’ve realised that there’s really rather a lot of washing I ought to do. So today I went down to put on some towels. Quite a lot of towels, it’s amazing how they accumulate. I felt that they needed some kind of cleaning liquid to go with them – a feeling that apparently contradicts the feelings of the person who has stolen all my laundry products. I was initially surprised by the bottles not being where I’d left them. I looked around and they weren’t there at all. This is the point where I started screaming [mostly internally] with irritation and rage.
Who steals these things and why? They’re sitting there unattended. You do not need to take them away to steal from them. And, let’s face it, they’ve been pretty god about taking from them as they need them. My new thought [yes paranoid] is that somebody [somebody who is illiterate and mute as can be assumed by their inability to write or speak to me] is attempting to communicate something to me. I’m not sure what. I think I may have failed Communication by theft 101. I probably didn’t hand in an essay or something.
I do wonder if I’m being petty here. I mean, it’s only laundry liquid; it only costs about five dollars a bottle. Should I be pissed off that somebody takes it? I know that there are some total wolf-babies in this block… Do you know what? Petty or not I’m awfully pissed off and have lost all regard for the cunts who live here.
Isn’t it pathetic that when somebody has [pointlessly] stolen from me I am inclined to blame myself and question my own reactions?
Oh and to the person who did this – some lovely syphilitic thoughts are coming your way.