Remember the Kubler-Ross ‘stages of grief’ chart from Psychology 101? Here’s what mine looks like after my purse got stolen right outta my car last night. While my car sat in my driveway.
1. Denial- “Surely noone would just come and take my purse right out of my car. And steal my ipod. And then charge $1000 at Walmart at 3:30 in the morning. Surely there’s been a mistake officer”
2. Anger “Those little thieving slimy fools…..have the nerve to drive right into my safe little sweet Mayberry neighborhood and snatch my Kenneth Cole creamy leather purse….right out of MY car….it’s MINE…..not yours……you little lying wretches (this is where cursing would come in handy)…..it’s all MINE…..the visa cards, the check cards, the ballet slippers, the 27 tubes of MAC lip gloss, the 4 packs of peanut butter crackers, the IPOD, the 2 protein bars…..ALL OF IT. GET YOUR GRUBBY LITTLE PAWS OFF.
3. Bargaining “Please Lord, if you’ll just bring these sinners to justice and somehow preserve my precious things, I’ll be more choosy about which lip gloss I buy…..I know I don’t need ALL those colors…..and I’ll be more careful. I’ll lock everything. I’ll get a security system. And turn it on. And I’ll get more organized…..so that when I need to cancel an account I can find the numbers. I’ll set up elaborate filing systems. I’ll have Sue come over and teach me. I promise Lord I’ll do better. Just please bring creamy Kenneth home safely. Please, for the love of angel cream lip gloss.”
4. Depression “I’m the most optimistic, pathetic excuse for a human being there is. That’s it. No more trusting everybody. My life will never be the same now. I’ll always be looking over my shoulder. I’ll become so paranoid that I’ll end up conjuring up some elaborate conspiracy theory about how my neighbors are all spying on me to get a glimpse at my account numbers. I’ll draw the blinds. And keep the lights off. And live the life of a secluded hermit. With dry cracked lips. In silence.
5. Acceptance “You know what, it’s just ‘stuff’. Noone got hurt and the bank’s gonna give my money back. Maybe it’s a good lesson to be more careful…..and a little less trusting. I’m just thankful for all the good gifts God has given me.”
Lest you think I’m a saint, I’m currently at step 2. I get visions of the thieves watching “Dancing with the Stars” on a new widescreen tv that I (STEVE) BOUGHT while trying to decide which of the 27 colors of lip gloss they like better. And wondering out loud why on earth someone would have 50 Cent and Allison Krause on the same IPOD or carry adult sized ballet slippers in their purse. ‘Cause I’m a dancer okay….not a thief like you.
If I could communicate with my perpetrators, I’d say this.
Play the song on my IPOD by Johnny Cash called Folsom Prison Blues…..cause that’s where you’re headed in your life if you keep this up. Oh and my IPOD has been ‘on the blink’ lately and I wouldn’t be surprised if he (his name is Jack) won’t play for you at all. He doesn’t perform well for criminals……or in the cold, or in the rain, or if you change the songs too fast and frequently. Please take care of him. He’s very special to me and always knows what song I need…when i need it. If he were here right now he’d play “Survivor” by Destiny’s Child for me.
I hope he refuses to play any song for you at all except Folsom Prison Blues…..over and over. And over. When I get to step 5, I’m sure I’ll tell you to listen to “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus” and I’ll wish for your forgiveness and healing. But I’m still at step 2. So Folsom Prison Blues it is.
Is it sheer coincidence that this previously taken picture of creamy Kenneth, even when cropped to its maximum is joined on either side by a chef’s knife and the holy cross? I think not. Justice will prevail.
I will make dinner….
and He will make justice.
I write this as I ponder the hassels of trying to recover my identity and put corona on my lip-gloss missin’ lips and hum to Johnny Cash singin’
(I hear the train a’ comin’ it’s rollin’ round the bend…and I ain’t seen the sunshine since….I don’t know when…..I’m stuck in Folsom Prison….and time keeps draggin’ on…)
