I came home late tonight because I went to the gym. My previous half-hearted attempts were after driving an hour and a half through traffic. All motivation to tire myself even more was drained. So, I looked for a Bally Fitness Center near my workplace. ‘Lo and behold! There’s one in Simi Valley. And, better yet, it’s not crowded. I had a wonderful workout without having to wait in a line as long as the ones in Disneyland, and a I got reacquainted with one of my Purchasers back when I was a manager at Countrywide.
When I got home, I got a call from my aunts telling me that the Sixth Family’s house was almost a victim of a robbery. This is the thousandth time that some crook tried to break into their house. I don’t think their neighborhood is safe…
The crook managed to rip off the window screen and unlatch the window bars, but I guess he (or she, but most unlikely) didn’t have the time to get in and do his deed. Ironically, no one at the house really knew about the screen and window until the parents were closing all the windows before going to bed. Since there was no urgency, the police took their sweet time (one whole hour) before showing up to do their report. Cindy and Raymond were a bit nervous. If this happened to me, I’d be pretty scared. Being robbed in my own home is one of my greatest fears.
My mom says anyone who tries to rob our house would be horribly disappointed. Aside from my $1,400 laptop, there would be nothing else to take. The robber would be so distraught from the waste of his efforts that he’d take a dump in our livingroom just to spite us. Yes… these colorful words came from my mother’s mouth.
Apparently, when Eldest Uncle first came to America, someone robbed his home. Since his family didn’t have much in belongings at that time, nothing was taken. Apparently, the burglar was so angry at this fact that he took a dump in their closet. Go figure… perhaps there was a bit of racism to the actions?