Somebody stole my car. Again. This time they stole it from the street outside my workplace. Last time it was stolen from my house, taken for a joyride, and recovered a few days later.

On a street full of Beamers and Mercedes and such, why would anybody steal my busted-ass 14-year-old Saturn that's mostly held together with duct tape? The mind boggles.

We're better off than last time. At least we have another car. But, still, man. Shit.