Who Steals A Door?

My faith in humanity just took another blow. I just went looking for our bathroom door. Mark had been stripping it in the backyard, and yesterday he had asked me something about helping him move it later. I forgot about it. He went home without mentioning it again. So it wasn’t moved.
Later it started to drizzle later as Mama and I were heading out to take the rental van back, I went around back to put the door up in the building or something. It wasn’t on the table. I didn’t really look for it. I just assumed that Mark had put it up by himself, and that it was either in the house or in the storage building. But I just went looking for it. No door. I can’t find.
I’m pretty sure someone stole it. Which, of course, leads to the first and most obvious question; who the fuck would steal a god-damned old door? But I sure can’t find the thing. If Mark put it up, he had to have put it in the storage building. And while it’s dark and I can’t quite see in there, there is a bunch of stuff sitting right at the door. I can’t imagine that Mark could get it in there without moving a bunch of stuff.
I can’t believe this.

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