This morning as I was running out of the house to get on the road to make my first meeting of the day, I walked between my car and my husbands work truck in the car port and found what I thought to be an odd site. Wet asphalt, a gas can cap, and the gas tank open on the work truck. Someone had siphoned my husbands gas!
Really? Has it come to this?
My husband was inside on a work call so I didn't want to alarm him while he was trying to sound all talented and all knowing of fruit and landscape design, so I wrote him a little post-it note. I pointed to the note a few times but he was obvious busy so I got ready to leave again. I didn't want to leave in case they drained him of all of his gas and he would need a ride to get a gallon or two. But alas, thanks to his double tank truck, they only drained him down to half, and he doesn't think they got much, especially since they probably spilled a half gallon by the looks of the mess.
But still RUDE!
Oh, and then I called our HOA manager to ask her a question, but then also let her know of the gas stealing. She said, "ok". OK! Really, you have nothing more to say then OK? I don't expect much more I guess, but no 'Thank you for letting me know' or 'I'll give the security company a heads up', or anything. Have I mentioned how much I love living where I live? Have I? Please someone let me know when the market is going to turn so I can can be packed and ready to leave. Hell, screw the packing, I'm outta here.