On life and underwear...

I worked on Friday until 3:30pm. It was rainy and both my hands had been hurting all day. I stopped off at a nearby plaza to pick up pain medication then hurried home, vowing not to go back out again that night. I remember unlocking the outside door of the building and know I had the keys when I got inside our apartment. I was positive I'd stuck them, as usual, on the key rack by the front door.

Saturday morning my son went off to do a bike ride for charity (he raised $140!) and I puttered around at home. I decided to chuck in a load of laundry and, as usual, went to grab the keys so I could check the mail while I was down there.

No keys.

That was odd but I figured I'd just placed them in my coat pocket or lunch bag. Checked them as well. Still no keys.

I searched harder on Sunday and still couldn't find the keys. Left for work Monday morning figuring I'd spend my day off today tearing the apartment apart. They had to be here somewhere; I'd come home with the bloody things. Thankfully we had spare keys so I wasn't stuck keyless.

I got home from work yesterday and unlocked our door. My first step was to get changed out of my work uniform. Pulled open my underwear drawer and stopped. There wasn't a single pair of underwear inside. There'd been about 4 pairs in there that morning.

That was when the little lightbulb went off...

... my keys. Someone must have opened my door a crack and fished them off the keyrack... then come back while we were at work and school to steal... my underwear?

I looked around and nothing else was missing. The computer, router, Wii, netbook, and camera were all here. My purse was sitting on the front bench complete with my wallet hanging out (I'd grabbed something out of it that morning) and everything was in there as well. Health cards, bus pass, MasterCard, debit card... all left completely alone. Someone walked past all of that so they could steal my old undies.

Granted, while friends can and do chuckle over my naivety, I'm not quite that naive. I know there's no black market in two year old granny pants; they're not a hot item. There's pretty much only one reason someone would steal underwear (outside of college pranks). But my underwear are not me and I'm simply relived that a) neither my son or I were home b) the cats and guinea pigs are happy and unharmed and c) I'm not having to call my insurance company so I can replace everything.

The locks have been changed, the key rack moved away from my door, and I went out and bought a $4 pack of undies to replace my old ones. So hopefully that's the end of that!