As a temple head for the Pagan Tradition to which I belong, I open my home and my life not only to members but also to strangers. Granted, according to the Irish a stranger is only friend that you have not yet met. I am however not Irish (even though I can sometimes drink like an Irishman) and I am not the best of persons to meet new people. I generally am very shy and introverted. Paul goes to the shop and when he comes home he has invited the cashier for tea (I shit you not, he did it) but me, I find it difficult to talk to strangers. Maybe it’s because it was made very clear as a kid. My point is that even though I am like this, I still open my home to strangers. I also open the homes of other members to strangers, that is if we have a party or ritual or a workshop or a whatever at someone else’s home.
Last year at the summer solstice ritual I experienced invasion. We held the ritual (like most of our rituals) at the Stone Sanctuary. Beautiful place that sells gemstones and crystals and jewellery and lots of Pagan things that will make you very sad if you cannot have it. But I am getting off the point.
After the ritual I went to the bathroom and took off my robe and got back into my civilian clothes. Now at Notrenlim Temple we have what we call cleaning crew. The practicing handmaiden is in charge and at every ritual she pics two people to help her clean up ritual space. I hung my robe up in a room that is accessible to everyone. Not just my robe, but my robe, cloak and jewellery. Well that was the last I saw it. Poof, gone. Someone took it. Now I guess I should feel flattered that someone likes me so much that they steal the clothes off of my proverbial back. But here is the thing. The robe I wore, crappy as it may have looked, I made myself, during a time of serious introspection.
But you know, you kinda sit back and think to yourself “Zeo it’s only a robe and a cloak and a labradorite ring. Put it behind you” But the person that stole that robe will eventually forget about it and wear it to one of my rituals. Now I may be a poof, but I will fucking deck him or her the moment I see my robe on him or her. As previously stated, my rings are BIG!! They can do serious damage.
Over the years small things have disappeared from my home, from allowing complete strangers entry to it at rituals and events. But you know it’s always a “be the better person Zeo” situation. So I have always kept my trap shut. Which for those of you that know me, will know it is very difficult. But be that as it may things have been good since last summer solstice.
The weekend one of my council members turned 50. We had a lovely party at her house. Paul baked an awesome cake. Everyone was enjoying themselves and having a good old jolly time. I behaved myself and didn’t dance on any tables even though I was told that that the coffee table would be able to hold me. I am still not sure that it will and don’t really want to be responsible for the death of a coffee table. We went home in the early hours of the morning cuz I could no longer keep my eyes open. Yes I was tired. Yes I am young and shock horror I was tired. Just remember that in gay years I am about 127years old. I am having my menopause. Men no longer pause to look at me.
So Sunday Paul and I go to do our weekly shopping. We get to the front of the line. The lovely cashier greets us, I give Paul the look that means “don’t you dare invite her over”. I swipe Pick n Pay card to get the points. She rings up everything and I know I don’t need to swipe my bank card cuz I still have enough money in my wallet. My wallet that was in my bag, in the lounge at last nights party.
My wallet, was not stolen, Thank Kali for that. Only once before was my wallet stolen but that was my own stupidity. What made me the most upset was not that there was money in it but that it was a stunning wallet and I really loved it. One needs to know how so accessorize.
So back at Pick n Pay I take out my wallet to pay for our food. Knowing that there is enough money in it to pay for the two bags of food and for my monthly train ticket to travel to work and back. I open the wallet and WHAM!!!! Like my virginity the money was gone. Weg, in sy moer in. Hierdie maand se pay so weg soos laas maand se pay!
I didn’t make a scene, it wont help to make a scene in Pick n Pay because some thieving dickwad stole money out of my wallet at last nights party.
I have suspicions and a very strong gut. So strong a gut, that you can ask Paul, keeping a secret from me is just about next to impossible. Shame the poor man just thinks about the next shit that he wants to do and then I already know about it. But even though in my gut I know who it is, what does one do without proof? Now I know people will say “It’s only money” Well you are right. But it was my fucking money. Money that I worked for. Money that frankly, I cannot afford to have stolen.
I cannot comprehend why someone would steal something from someone else. You want money, get off of your lazy fucking ass and work for it. Even if you have to mow someone’s lawn.
I cannot stand thieves and liars. My granny, may she rest in peace, used to say, if you can lie to someone then you can steal from them as well. Also the inconvenience it now creates for me, having to always lock my bag away or not take a bag. Not take a bag? I am loosing it. I have so mush shit in my hand bag (which is a ‘Nightmare before Christmas’ bag) that not to take a bag is not an option. To find one piece of paper I have to empty the entire bag into Paul’s arms. Make-up, smokes, about three lighters, a pop up brush and mirror, keys, spare keys, wallet, sweets, tissues, hand was, and and and…….essential you know.
I am off my point again……..and I kinda lost it, my point. . . . . . . . . . . .
Anyhoo, I know who you are, I will be waiting for you to try and invade my space and my things again, and then you will be facing my huge rings.
Until next time, keep your bags safe people.
Mwah!
No comments:
Post a Comment