A good word for clutter

A big fat raspberry to that/those pigfucker/s who rifled through my car this morning and walked away with a damn good selection of CDs.

Now, this is probably a common occurrence to all you Big City dwellers, but here in relatively quiet inner north Canberra (with the occasional teensy-weensy break out), I resent the thought of having to lock my car at night. I still harbour dreams of my neighbourhood being innocent and friendly, like an old country town. I also have a pretty non-materialistic stand on things. If you like your stuff, don't leave it lying around in the open. Bumblebee has learnt this the hard way, as his dog chews his way through toys left on the ground. We now have Stumpy Luke, a Star Wars character who is a total amputee, and thus (my Pollyanna-ish nature shines forth here) can fit really well into the spaceship capsule. I try very hard not to leave valuables in the car, and keep a small CD case with only home-burnt CDs in it. Unfortunately I did put a couple of original CDs in last weekend for our trip to the Blue Mountains, so they are now Gone. Along with a friend's sunglasses that I'd dropped into the centre console to pass onto her if I ran into her. Well, she was too lazy to come and get them from me, so c'est la vie.

Whoever did the evil deed was of course in a hurry. I think they baulked at rifling through the back seat of the car because of the deep litter method of storage we have adopted: layer after layer of toys, old newspapers, empty softdrink bottles and icecream wrappers. As it was, as I got in the car, the door was slightly open (odd, I thought), the centre console open, the glovebox open... you see what I'm saying. All laid open and very little gone, because there wasn't much worth taking. Ha! I hope they're deeply disappointed to find most of the CDs are of little commercial value. I do hope, however, that they look after my Baterz disk, because he was so special and is no more, and the disk is wonderful and doesn't deserve dumping under a bush in some park.

Best Beloved, a Sydney boy, disapproves of my open-door habit. To his credit, he was remarkably restrained when I reported the theft, refraining from the more satisfactory 'I told you so' and merely commenting 'Maybe we should start locking the doors from now on'. No! I say. Then the buggers have won. No, better to just keep valuables out. At least with an open door they won't smash the windows to see if anything is there.

But I will miss my Baterz CD. Even if I buy a new one it won't be the same, really, since I bought the old one from him personally. Tragic.