The post robbery day also known as the Day of Crying…and telling someone to get the fuck out of my house and other stuff…

As I (finally) went to take boys to school this morning and get to work sometime before midday, I discovered the stupid fuckwits, also known as thieves, had taken the backpack I use as Jasper’s nappy bag. In the side pocket of which is my house keys.

So there we were, couldn’t leave as no keys to lock up house or get back in, nor wanting to leave because the fuckers have now been here, seen what else they could nab and have keys to make their entry (and getaway) a lot easier.

The locksmith is organised – they can come between 1 and 3. So after not being able to leave, get anyone to take my kids to school, and crying a LOT, I declare today a mental health day for all. If only it had been fun.

The locksmith arrives at 3.10. I point out that I had not realised this morning that he would also have to rekey the garage locks as they are the same as the house locks. He huffs and puffs. A lot. Then, as he walks through my house, mutters, yes MUTTERS that I have “really put his afternoon out”.

I was all “excuse me?” and “you were meant to be here between 1 and 3”, being an IDIOT, he didn’t realise he was talking to a woman seriously on.the.edge., so persevered. “Well,” he said, “it’s only ten past three”.

I think you can all guess what followed.

I sort of cracked. In a way I have never EVER cracked before, in public or to a stranger. “I’ve put your afternoon out? I’ve been robbed. People have been in my house and taken my possessions. These people have taken a bag with belongings in it for my baby and my housekeys that have photos of my kids on it. And I’ve put your afternoon out? How dare you try to make me feel guilty for not realising you would have to change two additional locks. I’ve had to wait for you all day so while your afternoon has been put out I could not go to work today. I could not get my kids to school and that perhaps if you’d arrived closer to one rather than after three your afternoon might not have been quite so put out?”
This was all said in that loud authoritarian but teary-edged voice I have perfected.
He was pretty scared. He tried saying sorry.
I told him to put the lock back in the door and to “get the fuck out of my house.” and some more that I don’t quite remember but went something like, “PUT.THE.LOCK.BACK.IN.THE.DOOR.AND.GET.OUT.OF.MY.HOUSE.”

Then there was the phone call to the company. Where I basically did the same thing all over again. The guy was awesome. Asked to speak to the locksmith, to which I said, “he is not touching one more thing in my house, I have asked him to put the lock back in and leave, which he is doing.” The guy on the phone didn’t even try to apologise but instead simply said, “I will have someone there as soon as possible.” Which he did. A guy who looked like he belonged to the Commancheros. He looked pretty darn scared when he knocked on the door.

Mum passed the first guy on her arrival home. She tried to make me feel sorry for his stupid sorry arse. That he was stuttering. And visibly upset. All I remember in talking to her was saying fuck a few more times.

I can only imagine how this will come back to bite me on the arse. Probably when Felix is suspended for telling his teacher to fuck off or some such.