Some ignorant fool tried to break into the house across the street from me the other night. We don’t know exactly when, but judging just by the fact that you could see footprints in the snow, it had to be since it snowed last, and that was just a couple of days ago. The old lady next door to the house, whose house sits directly across from me, happened to look in the backyard of the targeted house from her window, and saw the footprints underneath a window.
The house they tried to break into is empty, since that old lady died this past summer. She was a great old lady, I really liked her. She was very kind to Paul and I, and she let us borrow pots and pans and water when we first moved in and were in the middle of remodeling. And like me, she loved Court TV, so we had tons to talk about. Sharp as a tack she was.
This is the same house that our van almost hit last year. Our driveway faces the big double garage doors of the old lady’s house, (see the pictures), and last year, we had the van parked in our driveway. Paul and his helpers had been working on the roof on our house, and he left about 5:30 to take them all home. When he did, he left the aluminum ladder on the roof of the panel van. About a half hour later, I was sitting in the living room, and suddenly heard a huge CRASH! BANG! BOOM! Which immediately made the dogs start barking their fool heads off. So I looked out the side window that faces our driveway. There was something odd going on, because the panel van seemed to be moving, slowly, but it was definitely inching forward – either that or the house was moving backwards. I quickly decided that it had to be the former and ran outside in my nightgown (normal dress), to see why the van was moving and what the hell the CRASH! BANG! BOOM! was.
So I run outside and see that the van is definitely moving forward, and the way it is pointing, it is heading straight towards the old lady’s big double garage doors. And I also see that the CRASH! BANG! BOOM! had to have been the aluminum ladder falling off the roof of the van, because it’s now lying in the driveway next to the van.
So, I do what any normal person in their right mind would do – I grab a hold of the back bumper of the panel van – to “stop it”. And for some reason, that doesn’t work, and now the van has hit the small grade of our driveway, and it’s moving a little faster. So, in between the pangs from the fucking heart attack I am now experiencing, envisioning the truck crashing through the old lady’s garage, I run to the front of the van and try to fling the door open – I figure I can at least mash on the brake and maybe that will stop the van before it gets to the garage.
And the door is locked.
So now I have other things running through my mind – like just my luck the old lady will actually BE in the garage, and the van will kill her, or she’ll look out the window when she hears the van crash through her garage and have a fucking heart attack and die, and I’m wondering “who do I report this to – my vehicle insurance or my homeowner’s insurance- and how many forms is *this* going to be?” And “Who are they going to blame for the old lady’s death when she dies from a heart attack – me, since I was the only one home? Or Paul, since the van belongs to him?”
So I grab onto the handle of the door, and try to stop it that way. And for some reason, this just isn’t working. The van is still inching towards the garage doors – and I wonder if I should start yelling “Get out of the way old lady across the street! For the love of God get out of the garage!”
And then, for some unknown reason, with the front of the panel van looming down on the garage doors – the van stopped. Stopped dead. And never hit the doors. There was no room between the front of the van and the doors – I couldn’t even fit my hand between the nose of the van and the handle of the garage – but the van stopped. *I* think it was because of my superhuman strength in dragging on the bumper or dragging on the handle of the front door of the van – or maybe my superpower is in my superhero garb of “flowing in the breeze” nightgown. But the van stopped. I do not know why.
And when the van stopped – it stopped with the ass end hanging out in the middle of the road, because our street is only one car width wide and the panel van is like 30 feet long. So I now have the nose of the van butted up against the garage doors (but not touching! It never actually hit the garage) – and the ass end blocking the road. So now I’m concerned that someone is going to come down the road and not be able to get by. And I’m still standing there with my hand on the front handle of the door because I’m afraid if I let go, my superpowers will no longer affect the van and it will start rolling again.
And then Paul finally comes down the street. He sees the van and stops the truck and gets out looking at me like I led the fucking van across the street and he says “What did you do?”
What did *I* do? Well, I single-handedly stopped a fucking disaster – that’s all. So I looked at him and said “What did I do? Nothing, I just took the van for a fucking walk – what the hell do you mean ‘what did I do’?”
So he gets his keys from the truck and opens the van door – gets in and backs it up into our driveway where it started out, and this time, he puts some blocks in front of the front tires to make sure it doesn’t go rolling off again. And he turns the front wheels, so that if it *does* happen to roll again, it will safely roll next door into the yard rather than into the across the street neighbor’s garage doors.
So, you can see why I feel a special affinity to the old lady across the street’s house, and how it really pissed me off that someone tried to break in. I don’t know why they would want to break in, anyway, there’s really nothing left in there. Her daughter took out anything of value and anything personal that she wanted of her mom’s after her mother died. I can’t imagine that any thieves would be overwhelmed with riches by anything they would find in there. But it did spur Paul to put a couple more locks on the Harley barn doors. Stupid fucking people around here- breaking into some dead lady’s house. These people really need something to do at night. All the more reason for a movie theater. And a bookstore!