Nancy and Randy: CSI: Houston

Tuesday morning, I was awakended by a phone call from my receptionist who opens the clinic at 7 am. I get those calls from time to time, and they are never good news. Never. This time was no exception. Some fine upstanding citizan had decided to break my front window with a rock, shimmy his ignorant ass through the tiny, jagged hole, and help himself to some things that were not his. This is the scene my receptionist walked up on when I got the call:

The genius crawled through that hole, slicing his flesh in the process, instead of just kicking the rest of the window out. He then proceeded to put my laptop, digital camera and $200 in cash in his backpack and head on back to the crackhouse to get a fresh supply. Did my alarm go off? Nope. The damn motion detector went off a few months ago when a cat got loose in the clinic, but a grown man waltzes in and trashes my front desk without so much as a peep from the excellent security system I pay $300 a month for. Of course, my "night vision" camera also malfunctioned, leaving me with a black screen, a little light through one of the windows, and 3 minutes of the light from a flashlight going through all my stuff. Very helpful. My outdoor camera was only slightly more helpful, revealing enough to narrow the list of perps down to everyone within a 5 mile radius of the clinic. He was a black male with white tennis shoes and a backpack. Be on the lookout.

The Houston Police Department is hot on the case, though. Fingerprints? There aren't any, according to the ever-so-thorough representative from the Houston Police Department. He was good. He could tell that just by glancing at the broken window from across the room. The blood all over the glass from when the jackass cut himself shimmying through the broken window? It's too bad they don't have a way to match blood to individuals. That would have been useful. I understand that they aren't going to form a posse and shut down the city to hunt down some small-time crackhead who made off with $1700 worth of stuff. I get it. But he could have at least acted like he gave a shit. That might at least deter a few of these low-lifes if they thought they might get caught. Columbo this guy was not.

Anyway, it could have been much worse, and for that I am thankful. They didn't harm any of the animals, they didn't find the drugs, and no one (besides the crackhead asshole) was hurt. Considering the alarm didn't go off, he could have cleaned me out. Hopefully, my strongly worded phone call to ADT, and the technician who showed up shortly thereafter, have solved my security holes.

A couple of weekends back, the three of us, Nancy's parents, and her brother and his family all rented a condo in Port Aransas. We had a blast, and it was great to get away for a little while. Jacob had fun at the beach and in the pool, and Brooke and Tyler had a lot of fun, too. The only downside was the funk that I brought everyone. I call it the gift that keeps on giving. See, JKW had a little upset stomach earlier in the week, but it didn't seem too bad. Then the morning we left for Port A, I thought I was going to die. Literally. I was weak, and feverish and nauseous, and achy. The ride down was miserable for me, but also for Nancy because all I did was complain and was absolutely no help with Jacob or navigating the Charlie Foxtrot that is the Port A Highway system. I went straight to bed upon arrival and pretty much didn't move for the next 18 hours. I felt better by the next day. Then that night, Nancy and her mom were miserably sick, barfing profusely and, I'm sure, cursing my name. Then Nancy's Dad joined in the fun the night after we left. A fun time was had by all. Sorry about that. I blame Jacob, since he can't defend himself.

Here are a few pics, strategically shot between barfing episodes: