I went outside to sit on the doorstep until the deed was done. I couldn't stand to watch it running around everywhere any longer. So I'm sitting there in the dim evening, looking around, and I notice something hanging from the staircase in front of me. Then I notice it's a bike lock. Our bike lock. Alone. And no bikes. Someone had cut through our bike lock and stolen both our bikes. I run back inside to a room full of displaced furniture and my husband with a sandal in his hand exclaiming, "I got it!" Told him that our bikes were gone. That sucks.
We moved all the furniture back, and I went to do the dishes and mourn the loss of our bikes. I had just bought my bike a month ago, and Paul's was worth over $300. Paul came later, and started drying. I put a glass cup in the rack and it somehow falls out and breaks on the counter, cutting Paul's hand in two places, and splattering blood on his khaki shorts. "Spousal abuse! Spousal abuse!"
Hopefully that will be all the bad luck we have tonight. :)