I feel a little awkward discussing this subject, as I must be circumspect about it. I can't come out and say who this is about. But it bugs me, somewhat, and mentioning here once will help me deal with it so that I can move on to happier things.
The mother of the boy who broke into my house doesn't like me very much.
Obviously, I cannot reveal who this woman is, because that would indirectly reveal the name of the charming young man. Then, guess who would be in trouble? Your humble blogger, that's who. I know enough about the law to know that the odds are stacked up against the victim of crime, that the perpetrators, particularly if they are young, do not fully have to deal with the consequences of their slovenly behaviour in the same way that an adult would, and the poor victim has to put up or shut up. Sucks, but that is the way things are. I don't like it, but I accept it. Even when people told me that I should consider how the boy felt, or the parents of the boy, I had to grin and bear it and say, "Yup! I feel for them." It seems that I do not merit any kind of consideration in this matter.
Anyway, the mother of so-and-so has never been what I would call friendly to me. Her husband is fine, and their daughter has always been nice to me; but the mother, not so much. Ever since the break-in, however, she has been nearly hostile to me. I will say hello to her; she'll grunt to me if I am lucky. The son, of course, is probably mad at me because he got caught. I don't know. I have only spoken to her once since the break-in.
I do not understand her attitude at all. Just this evening, when I got home from work, she drove to her home, which is within sight of my own. She remained in her car, with her hand covering her face, until I went into my own house.
Maybe I am making something out of this when there is nothing at all.
Maybe. But then again, maybe not.
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