Have been enjoying a holiday in balmy Wellington over the last week and got a call from the cat-feeder one night. "You've been robbed, the house is a mess and there is stuff all over the place". ARGH! Frantic call to the landlord follows, who manages to get the house secured the next day (because the back door frame had been totally smashed in). Now we get home full of trepidation to our house to find that, yes there is a god-awful mess, but after much tidying and putting-right the ONLY thing that appears to have been stolen is... my motorbike gloves. WTF?! It's not even like they were flash racing jobs or anything. My other bike gear is all still here, my BIKE is still here (although the key was not very well hidden in a drawer which was rifled through). No computers taken, no DVDs, no stereos, no tools or toys AT ALL. Just my freaking gloves.
So two thoughts come to mind... either the little fuckers doing the pillaging were interrupted midway through (which would explain the pile of 'good stuff' on the middle of the bed), or this is some sort of 3 month welcome prank from you twisted kiwibikers. Am I going to get the gloves back full of turd? Does this mean I now get to learn the secret handshake?
Happy that things have turned out so much incredibly better than we feared but still feeling violated and right pissed-off. Guess it's off to Boyd's tomorrow for a new set of gloves.
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