so, a woman walks into a barn...

I just got home.

John the owner of the barn, and I went to breakfast this morning and when we got back he said that now is a good time to get the apples.



I had asked him earlier to take me out in the bucket of the tractor so that I can pick some apples off the tree in the pasture- the barn's bonfire & "weenie roast" is coming up on Sunday and I thought it would be neat to make some apple pie or something with them.

So I'm like "YAY" up in the tree and standing in the tractor bucket, I see a woman walk into the door of the barn. John said that I told him "There's a woman walking into the barn". People often stop by to ask about the horses or riding lessons, so I thought for a split second about having John lower me down so I can go see if she needed any help but then sluffed it off thinking it was one of the girl's mother- I didn't see a car out front and if it was somebody in need of help, they would eventually find us out there- and continued picking the apples.



Apples gathered, bucket ready to go, I ran into the barn to grab my purse where I had quickly put it on table and head down the walkway towards my car. "wow. this is not as FULL as it usually feels." I said to myself. I rummaged through it. It's NOT as full.



MY FUCKING WALLET WAS STOLEN BY THAT WOMAN?!?
I know. It's totally bizarre. The woman never materialized and I never even saw a car leave. I NEVER take my purse into the barn. Ever. Like I just said, totally bizarre. Who walks into a barn in the middle of suburbia and happens to see a purse there and THEN goes into it and takes the wallet?! The whoever was wearing a light blue blouse type shirt maybe even denim, not tucked in and some jeans or something.

When I realized all this, I went to grab a smoke. SHE TOOK MY SMOKES TOO?! grrrr. alright. Just because I'm sometimes the type to look for my cell phone while I am on it, I went to the breakfast place to see if maybe I left it there, or if it had fallen out of my purse...on my way back to the barn to look some more, I ran out of gas. I shit you not.

I had to serpentine a bit, but I made it far enough to park at the barn and had to get John to get one of his gas cans. Put some gas in my car, went to the bank, got some cigarretts and called the police to make a report, in which the officer was seven donouts LESS than patient or nice.

There was $93 in my wallet, my credit cards and the usual. I don't have a bank card so I think thats safe. That bitchwhoretrespassing-denim-on-denim slut can have the money- what I'll miss is the see thorough window on the back and the authentic cuban cigar label (that was GEORGEOUS) and the little black and white sticker that said "Never trust a preacher with a boner". THAT got lots of laughs.