On our last trip to Ojai, our camera got stolen. Here's what happened.
Dyami packed a red suitcase and I a blue backpack. On the way home on the train, he was in charge of most of the packing. In the blur of last minutes, neither of us remembers exactly who packed the (fairly new) digital camera, but it seemed logical that he did it, in his red bag. Possibly on the outside pocket.
On the train, the bag was stowed behind us on the luggage racks. And Dyami noticed some hoodlum types skulking around that area.
When we get home, no camera.
I checked every pocket on his bag and mine. He checked every pocket in his baag and mine.
Still no camera.
That's when we realized it was gone, stolen by those aforementioned delinquents.
We were upset. We put away the red and blue bags in the garage.
Then we bought a new camera. For the second time in six months.
On this trip, we get home, and I am unpacking my blue backpack. I felt a lump.
You guessed it! Old camera, stuck at the bottom of the main compartment. Not even in a forgotten side pocket. Just in the main compartment.
There's only one explanation.
The delinquents had a change of heart (perhaps a conversion: maybe now they know Jesus!). They somehow located us in Encinitas, found our house, broke into our garage, and put back the camera they stole in the bottom of my luggage.
I'm not sure whether I should feel grateful for the recovered goods, or a little creeped out that these former delinquents broke into our house.
Well, now we have two cameras. One of which is dead (and we threw away the battery charger, because the camera it belonged to had been stolen).