Based on a True Story

Today I was cleaning out my home office and happened across some notes I took in the middle of the night.

The Background: While my husband was in business classes at school it was a common practice for teachers to instruct the students to subscribe to the Wall Street Journal. Some used the threat of assignments gleaned from the pages from the Journal and others just left it at subscribe or else. So, my husband did what many other people did in those circumstances and subscribed to the Wall Street Journal. He neglected to open them or read them. He want so far as to never let them in the house. At the end of my driveway was a pile of Wall Street Journals.

In case you're wondering why I didn't pick them up - I like to see how far things will go.

The Story: This all takes place in the course of one night and is based of off notes I took on the night in question.

1:34 a.m. There was a car light streaming in the window. I complained. My husband said it was coming from a parked car. I looked out the window. It was coming from my driveway.

They stole the Wall Street Journals.

1:39 a.m. I decided to keep a diary.

1:42 a.m. I decided whether or not to call the police. I didn't.

1:45 a.m. I changed my mind.

1:47 a.m They laughed.

1:52 a.m. I went for a donut.

1:58 a.m. I started looking for the van.

2:04 a.m. I stumbled across a lit up lodge. I went inside.

2:09 a.m. I found a huge pile of Wall Street Journals.

2:10 a.m. I was barraged and knocked unconscious.

3:42 a.m. I regained consciousness to find I was tied to a chair and the Journals had beaten me up.

3:46 a.m. The van showed up and a guy hopped out. He apologized.

4:00 a.m. The guy from the van dropped me off at home. He left four Wall Street Journals.

The Closing Statements: If there is any lesson that can be gleaned from the events that unfolded, whether real or imaginary, it is this: have your pet spayed or neutered, because once you stop making sense there is nowhere to go from there.