I woke up today to find my front driver's side window smashed in. Glass was everywhere. So was a little blood. Nothing gone, despite a almost-new copy of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein laying on the front seat.*
I was heading off to work when I noticed, but that wasn't happening anytime soon. First, I had to call the police. Then, after waiting a half hour for them to arrive, I called the insurance company and reported it. They told me they didn't really need the police report, and told me where to take it. I struggled to clean up all the shards of glass, and ended up giving up after a while, instead just putting a thick old blanket on the seat and crunchily sitting on the pile of glass on the seat. When I was leaving an hour after initially calling 3-1-1, the officer showed up and expressed condolences, but that was it; there was really nothing he could do.
I called a few friends to help me out, and ended up pulling a friend and her fiance out of bed to follow me to the window repair place, then to take me down to Fells Point to work at the restaurant job. I now feel a little guilty about it. Was it overstepping the bounds of friendship? I'm not sure. I like it when people ask things of me that put me out a bit - it makes me feel like I'm needed, and valued - but am never sure if that's how other people feel. I bought them breakfast; hopefully that did the trick. They left saying, "You can get your car broke in to anytime." I hope they meant it because I've felt guilty about it all day since then.
Anyway, back to the car: I thought it would be all done by the time I got out of work. The insurance company was able to make an appointment for noon, and the very nice lady up in Parkville told me she'd hide my key in the console and it would be done. However, she called me a few hours later and apparently it's not just the window that is damaged, but it's also the motor that controls the automatic windows going up and down. So now it's not just the repairing of a broken window, but the replacement of a window motor. This cannot be done by the window place, but by a dealership. And that cannot be done until Monday. I even had to file a new claim once it was discovered that the damage extended beyond broken glass, so now my plan to go under the radar in terms of my deductible (my deductible is $250, the window repair woul dhave been $220) is probably for naught.
It's also really cold now to drive around. I haven't put any plastic in the window yet because I got off work all of a half hour ago and my bones are still too cold to venture another trip outdoors. Then, I guess I'll do some sort of shitty duct tape job. If it rains or snows - which it's supposed to do early next week - then I can't imagine what I'll do.
This shitty event is making me think of a few things:
1) I was very close to committing to taking a wild and crazy vacation down to Costa Rica this spring break. I'm struggling a little bit with money lately, mainly because I'm really working hard to get out of the debt that taking classes has put me under. But I was going to do it. However, now that seems for shit, at least for now. We'll see.
2) You cannot imagine what a bad mood I was in all day waiting tables after this incident. I don't think any customers noticed, but I sure didn't want to be there, even though I know I needed to be especially since I've got at least $250 I've got to spend in the next week that I didn't think I had to spend before.
3) Martin O'Malley became governor just a couple of weeks ago, and since then he hasn't had 24-hour police protection on his house. In fact, he has none. Since I live a block and a half away from him, I'd always pointed at that as a reason why the neighborhood was safe and always will be safe. Well, I think this might be the first sign that the pendulum might be swinging the other direction. See, it's really close to a couple of high-crime areas - The Cameo on Harford Road is known somewhat for some criminal activity, while the Moravia/Bel-Air intersection and area is a common filming site for The Wire for a reason - but has always remained quiet and safe in the six years I've lived here. I went through several weeks last year, in fact, of leaving my door unlocked because the lock was busted, and didn't even feel worried. But not anymore. There goes the neighborhood.
4) Either that, or it's just a couple of drunk kids who wanted to go smashing shit.
5) This entry is reading very calm and reasoned. But let it be known that I'm feeling like screaming curse words and kicking walls right now. I'm going to go down and lift weights in a few minutes. That should help. If anyone has a garage I could borrow tonight, that would help, too.
* If you didn't notice, this was my attempt at humor in the situation.
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