When I was going through grieving for my dad, cleaning out his house to get it ready to sell and basically putting in long hours every day while trying to maintain time with my husband, a few people helped me out a lot.
However, some of the neighbors came around offering their “help” only to get stuff, which I was mostly okay with if they offered to buy it; but I wasn’t okay with them stealing from me. How can people be so mean? Here I was still grieving and overwhelmed with so much to do, running myself ragged working at my dad’s to get the house ready for sale and still trying to get home to spend some time with Gerard. It was a very hectic and emotional time for me. That’s when I really decided that the sooner I sell, the better.
I had a lot of knick knacks and some other small things set out on the dining room table that one of the neighbors from up the street came to look at. He offered to buy a lot of the knick knacks that he planned on taking to the flea market to resell, but after he left, I notice the small scale that we used at the AWANA Grand Prix to weigh in the cars was gone. It had been on the dining room table with the knick knacks and was something I had wanted to keep. I should have brought it home with me sooner, but didn’t. I never saw it after that day so assume he must have taken it.
Harry had a garden hose hanging on the front of the house which I used to wash off the porch. Ricky, a junk dealer who helped me the most and was pretty much an all-around handyman who worked for himself, told me the garden hose was gone. Someone just took it! I couldn’t believe it. Who would take a garden hose right off the front of the house?
Ricky cleaned out the 3-car garage for me which I really appreciated. I had no idea what to do with all that junk that was in there but it was such a big job that he asked another guy to help him. I was paying Ricky for his help, but Ricky told his helper from up the street that he could borrow my garden weasel. It was an great tool for getting out whole patches of weeds and I had planned to use it and keep it. Too bad I never saw it again. The guy never returned it and Ricky never got it back for me.
Why didn’t I report it to the police? Truth is, I didn’t need any more hassles and just didn’t think it was worth my time. I’m sure the Cleveland police had bigger crimes to solve and probably wouldn’t have been able to get my things back anyway. There’s no way I could prove they were mine. Some people just see a weak vulnerable female as an easy target and don’t hesitate to take advantage even though stealing is wrong, wrong, wrong! Thou shalt not steal.
Did anyone ever steal from you? What did you do about it?
To find out more about my book and why I wrote it, read the Foreword here.