Crime touches us all...

This weekend crime reared its ugly, unshaven mug and spat upon my family. The unthinkable has happened. And when I write "unthinkable" I truly mean "unthinkable". I mean, you could conceive of things like carjacking, rape or even murder. What you WOULDN'T think, however, is that some dirty, rotten lowlife would STEAL MY BROTHER'S WET LAUNDRY.

But that's what happened.

Today was laundry day; my brother and his wife live in an apartment with laundry facilities for the complex. A couple of loads made it through the process without incident, but the allure of black Hanes t-shirts, Fruit Of The Loom boxer-briefs and Old Navy jeans proved too strong for some immoral soul and my brother's laundry was stolen. Right away you grasp the problem: stealing Sarah's black lacy panties, understandable; stealing Bo's boxers, downright weird. What makes it weirder is that it was wet laundry - it wasn't like someone had tumbled it out of the dryer into their laundry basket, gone to their apartment to fold and realized they'd taken the wrong load, or that Sarah had left it in the dryer so long that someone got irritated. She goes back to the apartment during wash and dry cycles, but she stays almost compulsively aware of the timing so that no one is inconvenienced. Several scenarios might make sense, but they depend upon the laundry being dry. What sort of twisted, deranged individual steals wet blue jeans?!?

Sarah and Bo walked around the complex, scrutinizing passersby and peering into windows in search of the missing clothing, but no joy. They checked garbage cans, other dryers, surrounding areas but no trace was found of his valuable 2-for-$10 t-shirts. After he called me to report the crime, I telephoned back and cleverly disguised my voice with a vague Eastern European accent (which of course offered no protection from Caller ID) and said, "Vee haf your blue cheans. If you effar vant to see zem again, you moost leaf fife sousand euros in small, non-sequential bills in a small brown grocery bak at the entrance to Tivoli apartments. Vee vill televone you vif furzer instructions. Do NOT involvf zee police!" Bo replied, "Oh, trust me, we won't! Anyway, how much is five thousand euros? Twenty bucks? Just bring me back my pants, beeyatch!"

After much discussion, Bo and I have decided that my friend Lachele is to blame. For one thing, she lives nearby. For another, it would take someone as extremely intelligent (not to say diabolical) as she to think of a scheme which solved the world's environmental problems yet required Bo's wet blue jeans.

On the positive side, this tragedy has pulled us together as a family. Somehow, we will find the $50 to replace the missing laundry, and we will move forward, and as God is my witness, WE WILL DO LAUNDRY AGAIN!!!