Quite a few crazy things happened in my first week back from vacation: my car was stolen, for one. Before I left for my break, I dropped it off at the mechanic's because the transmission seemed screwy. When I came back and called to inquire about the status of my car, the shop owner discovered that the car was missing. He thought that perhaps some of his guys took it to a "trammy shop" to be scanned; he'd call me in the morning.
Sure enough, the next morning, he called to tell me that the car was gone and the police were on their way. A stolen vehicle report was issued, my insurance company and the mechanic's insurance company set up to squabble, and then last night I picked up a voicemail from the police saying the car had been found.
I'll give some updates when I know more but let me take a minute to gloat about this particular irony: my car was stolen not in my neighborhood in the city but in Amherst, the "safest town in America."
Besides stolen cars, I rang in the weekend with an overflowing toilet and spent Saturday replacing the tiles of the drop ceiling in our tenant's kitchen. I think this is one of the gifts of owning a home though: necessity makes you do things you didn't think you would, or could.