Apparently my reputation as a Hockey Mom-Drug Dealer got out because last night someone decided that I apparently hid my stash in our 1997 Ford Escort. You know, the typical car of very SUCCESSFUL drug dealing mothers.
Apparently the stench of sour milk scared them off, but not before they broke a window, the dome light and smashed the steering column.
The investigating police officer, staring rather ironically at our vehicle, wondered aloud why we were targeted, considering the much nicer vehicles parked in the driveways around us.
I didn't tell her they were probably going for my Advil. Living the life of a dealer is dangerous. I guess I will have to give it up now. Shucks. It was a fun 24 hours.