So D. and I went to Pensacola this weekend to visit Mom. Naturally, D.'s car broke down once again and remains in Pensacola being fixed.
While we were there, quite a few things happened.
- We met up with our friends Thorny and Michal at the usual spot (McGuire's).
- We added a dog to the family. (Note: we haven't actually adopted him yet, but we're fostering him while we decide. We did a trial run over the weekend with Jake, to see how they got along, and so far so good. His name is Charlie, and he's a 4 year-old husky/collie mix (otherwise known as a "hussie"). He looks like an Ewok to me, and unfortunately for us he shares Jake's need to be a bed hog. So we'll see how things go. Never a dull moment in our household, that's for sure.
- D.'s car is the devil. That is all.
- And then there's the matter of Patrick Robinson.
On Sunday morning, I went to go mow Mom's lawn and discovered that some of Dad's tools - and a couple of mowers - were missing. I asked her about it and she admitted that a handyman (the erstwhile mentioned Mr. Robinson) had worked around the house between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and she thought he had maybe taken them, but was too embarrassed to mention it.I made her call the cops and file a report.
Today, it turns out that he also stole her bronze flatware, my dad's chainsaws/saws/nice tools, all of her jewelry (including Dad's class ring, which is the only thing I told her I wanted from the estate), the sterling flatware, the artificial Christmas tree and some other things. I'm really angry. Not at her, of course, but at this schmuck who would take advantage of an obviously ill (this was when her medications were out of whack at the holidays and she was blacking out constantly) widow. I am also angry at myself, because as Mom put it, I really should have come to visit more. Maybe I would have noticed before now - as it is, it's been two months.
He sold things directly to pawn shops around Pensacola, so we may never recover some of these priceless items. I'm going to drive back to Pensacola tomorrow to take Mom around to different pawn shops to try to identify what might be left.
But I'm angry. (And strangely comforted by the hyperactive collie and the Ewok.)
1 comment:
There's a special place in hell for people like that... good luck on the pawn hunt. And nail that guy; if he's ripped off your mother, he'll do it to others.
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