To Catch A Thief!


Yesterday I arrived to Huffy Puffy to see some chairs set out on the lawn of Mrs Spark’s place.  (Mrs Spark is our personal trainer to the extraordinarily unfit.)

“Oh goodie!” I thought, thinking that the chairs would herald a session of sitting around and talking about our feelings. But no, they were there to hold onto so we didn’t fall on our asses, while doing a series of torturous things to our legs.

We were doing the torturous things, when one of the real housewives of my suburb walked past, and stopped, calling Mrs Spark over for a quick chat, apologising for interrupting our session.

So I sat on that chair for a moment, using it as nature intended, and complained to Mrs Goodman that I could not feel my ass.

Mrs Spark rejoined the group and told us that there had been a break in across the road. That on the weekend, the family were home in the front part of the house, while some bastard thief came through the back door and cleaned them out!

Now, you might recall that I am a bit of an over reactor, don’t you? Click here for the details….

So I was convinced, that while I was doing something to something called my inner vortex ligament plexus, that my house was getting robbed. I had even left our bedroom window open, just for their convenience.

You see one of my biggest fears is that of disturbing a burglar, or being at home while a thief strikes! I mean it has happened before, when some bastard came into the backyard and cheerily took off with Mr Woog’s dirt bike, all while I was watching the Kardashians on a Tuesday afternoon.

That was a bad day.

I am living in a hotbed suburb of crime!

So after HP was over, I asked Mrs Goodman to escort me home and see whether I had indeed been a victim of crime.

Now the thing about Mrs. Goodman is that she is fearless. She is a walking warrior woman and has the added talent of being able to silence any situation with the most impressive glare, which she mainly saves for use, exclusively for children.

So she positively MARCHED down the driveway, telling me..“I am from South Africa… I have seen it all…”

As she approached the front room, she started banging on the front window…

“We are coming in, so get the **** out…” BANG BANG BANG BANG.

I was quite beside myself! Had I been a thief in the house, I would have immediately shat my pants and froze.

In through the back door she went, with me following meekly behind. Room to room she went, yelling “Clear!”, signalling to me that there was not a rapist or murderer in there.

For there were no criminals in my house. The whole house was clear. I rewarded her with a cup of tea on the front steps, in the sun. On completion of said cup of tea, she thanked me, and I thanked her for saving my life. Off she went, strong and tall, down the garden path.

So if you are a house thief reading this mummy blog, you are an asshole.

Have you ever been broken into?

What happened? But don’t scare me too much….