So, everything's nice and normal in my house today. After the pets determined four hours of sleep was plenty for their momma, and there was lots of smacking of and sitting on my head, I got out of bed and made some breakfast. My cute little roomie just so happened to be home for lunch and we were hanging out in the living room when we heard a little bit of yelling outside. If I happen to be your friend, then I'm definitely one of the top three nosiest people you know. And I don't really care so much about what's going on with me or anybody else I know, but I refuse to mind my own business when it comes to strangers. So, we went outside to investigate/stick our noses where they don't belong, and saw this:
Yeah, there were four of Winter Park's finest two feet from my house, AND a helicopter flying above, and we all know how quickly I jump from 'oh, look, there's a helicopter' to 'OH MY GOD, SOMEBODY'S TRYING TO KILL ME'. This picture was after the excitement had cleared up and the cops were pretty much just hanging out, not wanting to go back to work. But before I got close enough to get a picture, there was a guy hanging out in hand cuffs, and a dude leaning against a Volvo. I'm wasn't sure yet how Mr. Volvo was involved, but he looked important.
I, of course, tried to figure what this dude was up to, the possible scenarios ranging from 'somebody hired him to come find me' to 'he's been stalking me for months and was coming to give me an early present in the form of severing my head'. No thanks, mister, I'll take a gift card. The mailman bopped up right about this time (not carrying any birthday gift cards) and filled us in, because I like to get my gossip from him. He seriously knows everything. Apparently Mr. Volvo came home and the hand cuffed dude was just hanging out in his house. Keep in mind, this is not Orlando, this is Winter Park, where the cops pay you a visit if your rose bushes aren't looking presentable. We aren't used to breaking and entering, as you can tell, since this moron didn't even do it properly. He was wearing khakis. Not practical in crime committing, if you ask me. Mr. Mailman also informed the guy had just previously broken into the car of the person who lives across the street from us. RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET. He could probably smell me. Her house is so close to us, I could throw something at her front door and not miss, without a problem. And I've thought about it, because she's really mean. Sidenote: She now wants to move, so thanks for that, buddy.
Basically, all I got from this entire ordeal, was, thank God this guy was distracted by whatever goodies Mr. Volvo had in his house, because he was most certainly on his way to come collect a few locks of my hair.
Later gators.
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