Pressure Washer

pressure washer

Yesterday, I got a text from Jonathon.  I’d stopped by home to pick up some food for a shop Thanksgiving potluck.

“What time did you leave home?” he asked.

“About 10:30 or 10:40”, I texted back.

“Hmm.  Somebody stole the old pressure washer out of the carport.  It was busted and rusted out anyway, but still.”

Then later.

“They cleared a path to it.  And they left the gun and the nozzle.  Good luck, buddy!  It won’t work.”

Even later.

“I know the pressure washer was just junk, but I feel kind of violated.”


Jonathon and I love living in a small town for various reasons.  One of them happens to be that the crime rate is generally low.  Yet…someone stole my purse right out of our house a few years back.  And now this.

Why is it that even when someone takes something from us, something we stopped caring about long ago, it makes us feel bereft?  In the case of the stolen pressure washer, it encompasses several things.

First, a person trespassed onto our property.  Did they take the spare toilet my brother dropped off?  Nooo.  They took a piece of junk, way in the back of the carport.

Second, they had intent.  They bypassed Jonathon’s tricked out ten-speed.  They cast nary a glance at the extra desk or Ruby’s dirt bike.  They perused our stuff, planning to utilize their five-finger discount. They had their focus on scoring something specific.

Third, we don’t know who they are, or when/if they’ll return. They wheeled it straight down the driveway in broad daylight.  This leaves us with a sense of uneasiness.  It makes me, for the first time, fiercely desire a new category of pet.  Anyone know where Rottweiler World is?

Trust in the Lord with all your heart;
    do not depend on your own understanding.
Seek his will in all you do,
    and he will show you which path to take. – Proverbs 3:5-6






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