and now...
dr. hyena in
search and rescue, rescue not
my father is a very generous man.
consistently with this, he gave me a very nice and possibly very pricey (i didn't ask, of course) persian rug for my flat.
the rug was quite big so we rolled it up and we put some wine bottles in the roll. the wine bottles were also very pricey (this i know for sure because i knew the vintages).
the rug-and-wine roll needed a big bag so it was stuffed inside a large black sports bag which also happened to contain several pieces of clothing which, unfortunately, ALSO happened to be very pricey (this i know because i paid for them myself).
not to mention that the sports bag contained the documents for my car, which are not pricey per se but they're supposed to be on the car when i drive it, and a bunch of CDs in a cool nike rucksack which was inside the bag.
THE FUCKING AIRLINE LOST IT ALL.
i went through several different states of mind. first i waited and waited. then i banged my head against the wall. then i went to church (not to look for my bags. i just did because i hadn't done it in the morning). then i realized i couldn't drive home without the car stuff.
so i went to the cops and i was redirected from office to office about thrice. every single cop was overweight and kinda bumbling: they had no idea what they should do with me, seeing how i wasn't a terrorist. i am by no means an anti-police kind of person, but they really were a disappointment.
in the last office, the force lived up to my expectations, so for a while i was busy falling hook, line and sinker for a wiry inspector with a sick of it all shirt (i want to be a plainclothes cop too!) who encouraged me to lie to his colleagues should they stop me on the drive home. then he kind of nicely dismissed me telling one of the bumbling officers to bring some romanian guy in "for a little friendly chat" and i was so replete with glee that i forgot that i had lost my bags.
alas, reality flooded back in once i was out on the street again - phoned the lost and found desk for the umpteenth time, got one more negative report, came home.
a comical search for a parking spot followed: i'm not relating the details, but suffice to say that run, parking spot, run is an apt description.
i fucking hate most people and things at the moment.