Friday evening we had a school disco with an interesting theme: The London Underground Disco.
In other words: "Come as your favourite tube stop". I tried to convince Larysa to go as Cockfosters (using a rubber glove painted red strapped onto a can of Foster's beer), but whether she just didn't get it or was afraid of getting in trouble for showing up to school with alcohol, she decided to get her Canadian gear on with a water sprayer and went as Canada Water. Adriana was one of a multitude of girls who came as Angel (but at her age, they don't want to be original, they just want to be pretty), but there were quite a few interesting get-ups that night. Like High Barnet: using the English slang for hair and gelling it up really high. Or a girl dressed as a rabbit for Warren Street. The winner was I think Highgate, dressed as a high gate, of course, and a little girl with ribbon bows all over her coming as Bow Road. Lots of fun was had by all the children, especially Larysa who was in her element, dancing all night long.
All was well until 6:45 am the next morning when the motion sensor alarm went off. In my sleepy-eyed state I ran downstairs to shut it off (cursing the dog as I went - thinking she had gone downstairs and set it off), until I realized that there was an open window in our back lounge. We'd been robbed! I then screamed for Orest to get his clothes on and come and join me to investigate, as there was no way I was going to get clobbered by myself. At first, we couldn't find anything missing, so we assumed that the alarm had done its work and scared the burglar off, but then 1/2 hour after the police arrived, realized Orest's mobile and brand new Blackberry were missing. They had been on top of the CD changer, in full view of the jimmied window. Surprisingly enough he had left the portable DVD player sitting right next to them, and left Orest's bike (which he'd taken out of the shed) behind as well.
The next day, I had a freak accident which left me thinking that we were in for a run of 3 in the bad luck department. I was trying to get out of the car while talking on the phone, got my foot tangled in the straps of my bag and went down like a sack of potatoes. As I'm laying there trying to figure out if I was still alive, my helpful husband calls out to me from the driver's seat "Don't just lay there rolling in the mud, get up!" Nice! It was as if I'd consumed a bottle of Southern Comfort and had fallen in a drunken stupor, such was his lack of sympathy and care. Then I think he realized that I was unable to get up myself, because the automatic side door of that van opens up and I can hear him say: "Girls, help your mother up." Picking out bits of bloody stones and tarmac out of my leg, I didn't feel any better until our friend Jim leans over to Orest and says: "Mate, you're supposed to be driving faster when you push her out!"
So when friends warned me that I should expect a 3rd unlucky thing to happen to me, I was at least praying that it wouldn't be anything more serious than what had happened already.
Luckily, we then noticed that that our Jeep had been keyed over the weekend, so I was willing to count that towards our 3 and stopped worrying. Phew!
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