What qualifies as a “not good” weekend? Well, here’s a picture: the megarunr and spouse standing outside in 30-degree weather, attempting everything Google claimed would get permanent freaking marker off of a garage door.
What does Google claim would get permanent freaking marker off a garage door? Hair spray (no), whiteboard cleaner (no), pencil erasers (ha! not even close), Mr. Clean Magic Erasers (no), vodka (don’t have any on hand, sorry), gasoline (yikes, not even going to try that one), Goof Off…Goof Off is where we ended, because technically speaking Goof Off was successful. It did remove the permanent marker. It also removed the garage door paint and primer…all in less than a second. Awesome. Wonder if Lowes carries “10-year-old Garage Door White” in stock…
Now, I know this post has nothing to do with running, but I’d really like to vent. Please? And, because I had no time to do any actual running on Sunday, the heartrate acceleration caused by discovering the Sharpie greeting on our garage door is going to qualify as “exercise.”
Plus, I’d really, REALLY like to vent.
As we were leaving the house on Sunday, we discovered a little surprise. Some of the wonderfully creative young minds in our neighborhood had written “hello,” “hey,” and “mob” on our garage door. Aside from being outrageously ticked off that someone vandalized my property, I’m a little annoyed by the lack of creativity. Appreciative that their word choice was unoffensive, sure, but if our property is going to be damaged, I’d like it say something good. Something with meaning. Give me a manifesto, a sonnet, a limerick. Something! “Hello”? I’m insulted. And what the heck does “mob” mean anyway? It’s got to stand for something. (Please, please tell me it’s just initials. That would be so sweet!)
And really, I’d just prefer if the angelic little delinquents could keep their unimaginative, bored little hands to themselves. The TP around Halloween was one thing. Clean-up was easy and pranks are somewhat expected. This mess is another can of beans entirely.
I was so mad on Sunday that for several minutes (ok, hours) the only words coming into my head were the ones I was grateful my little friends had NOT graffitied our door with. I don’t cuss often, so having my mental vocabulary completely replaced shows you just how far over the edge I was. I debated walking around the neighborhood knocking on doors, but was just sane enough to realize that this was not an advisable course of action. Not to mention that it would have no positive effect whatsoever. In return for becoming the crazy lady of the neighborhood, I would get…justice? Retribution? Satisfaction? Try nada.
Let’s just imagine that I somehow ferret out who marked up our door because, for example, someone was stupid enough to put their initials (the mysterious “mob”) on our door. This is Megan dreamland now, because I know we’ll never find out who did it. There are a few ways the “I know it was you” scenario can play out:
Me: Your child vandalized my property.
Ignorant Parent: What? My sweet angel could never do such a thing. She was reading to poor homeless children all evening. I’ll ask her. Sweet angel?
Delinquent in Training: Yes, ma’am?
Ignorant Parent: Sweet angel, did you graffiti Miss Megan’s garage door?
Delinquent in Training (with evil gleam in her eye): No, ma’am.
Ignorant Parent: See, that’s what I told you. Now get out of here before I sue you for slander.
The other options are the “I don’t care parent” and the “kids will be kids” parent. There’s nothing to be done with the “I don’t care” parent but feel sorry for the kid. The “kids will be kids” parent deserves a kick in the stomach. If your child TPs my house on Halloween, I’ll say “kids will be kids.” If your child writes in CHALK on my DRIVEWAY, I could maybe say “kids will be kids.” I know good kids still do stupid things, but when your child doesn’t think twice about damaging someone else’s property, you need to get a grip on reality. Whatever way you look at it, there’s not much satisfaction for me even if I figure out who’s responsible.
However, I HOPE that at least one of the kids responsible lives on my street. And I hope that he or she was going to church with their parents when they saw me out in the blistering cold (they don’t need to know that I don’t really mind the cold that much) trying to remove THEIR handiwork from MY garage door. And I hope that on the way back from church, they saw me STILL in the driveway, now priming the bare portion of the garage door in preparation for painting on a warmer day. And I hope they felt so guilty that they told their parents, who took away their cell phone, or their Xbox, or their chia pet, or whatever it is that they love the most. And I hope they cried their little selves to sleep and learned their lesson.