For years I’ve said – and believed –t hat the only consistency in my life is inconsistency. My mantra has proved itself correct once again.
I spent a good part of yesterday evening cleaning glass out of our kitchen sink.
It came from a broken window, which is how people got in.
The FIRST time they broke in they were able to jimmy the window open so there wasn’t really a mess.
Let me reiterate – we got robbed three weeks ago. Nearly three weeks exactly; the first incident was March 26. I noted (with mild amusement) that my last blog post was made on March 26, about how things were going well but it was a bit hectic.
They took some electronics, jewelry, weapons; little stuff. They left the window open, didn’t hurt the kitties, there wasn’t really that much of a mess (except a bunch of things hastily pulled open / looked through). Someone jimmied the kitchen window open, let their partner in through the back door, they were fairly…uh, polite? Respectful? I only use those words because they didn’t break or mess up things too badly. It still sucked, but it was kind of easier to cope with because there was less of a mess. I spent the entire night cleaning, crying a little here and there, and generally feeling disappointed in humanity.
We fixed the window. We got things set up with the police, our insurance, a security system inspection (originally scheduled for 4/29). All buzz words that people ask – checkpoints. “Did you call the cops? Did you call your insurance? What about an alarm?” Yes. We got all that taken care of. I didn’t sleep for two nights but the trauma kind of… was easier to push down and start building a wall around. We talked about what we should do to make our home more secure and started discussing what we need to do to move. We told very few people about it – close friends and family, people that we would normally trust to watch our house, that kind of thing, but we kept it quiet. You don’t really talk about that kind of stuff because of paranoia and also it’s really rather exhaustive. I stopped checking in on social media, and kind of withdrew overall. There were a few days of just sitting, trying to reorganize. The stress did a number on both of us both physically and mentally, but we began to recover and I even started to feel like I had some energy to do anything besides lie on the couch and read.
Yesterday, the house got broken into AGAIN. Jason came home from work around 330 and found the mess.
First, all kitties are safe and accounted for.
Second, aside from a cloth carry-bag from a local hotel and some change, they didn’t take anything, except our remaining peace of mind.
They busted the window over the kitchen sink. Glass and dishes were everywhere.
Bedroom: all the drawers dumped out, jewelry box again dumped out, closets ransacked, stuff under the bed pulled out. They stepped on the laundry, messed up the furniture/bedding. This means that – yet again – all the items that they touched needed to be re-washed, including the bedding. There is no worse feeling than knowing some random person is in your house, TOUCHING WHERE YOU SLEEP.
Bathroom: Two tiles that haven’t been sealed onto the bathtub frame had been taped on. They pulled those off, apparently looking for a hidden compartment underneath. The cats were hiding in there/under the bed, thankfully.
Office: pulled some stuff off the shelves, overturned things under the desk, pulled the drawers out of the storage armoire and pulled more stuff out from inside of it. Toolboxes we’d nearly forgotten about were dumped out.
Living/dining room: couch cushions flipped, some stuff pulled off the bookshelves. Books on the floor (thankfully not a lot, and MORE thankfully all the library books I borrowed seem to be all accounted for). The memory box that I made with our wedding stuff was dumped out all over the couch. They ripped an envelope that held my veil. I thought I would be prepared, but after seeing A) my wedding stuff everywhere, the sugar bowls opened up and rifled through, and a recipe box on the floor, the complete senselessness of it all then resulted in hysterics.
I don’t get hysterical. I don’t have big weeping fits or …scenes.
This time I went outside and sobbed on the porch. Just a mess. I tried to take some photos to document but can only post a couple because looking at the rest sets off the terrible thoughts in my head. Jason was able to clean up a little bit, but I was shaking pretty badly so most of the photos came out blurry. I started shaking when Jason called me to give me the news, and continued on throughout the evening. I’m still shaking and can’t get warm and it’s 70 degrees.
I’d apologize for Brak’s hair being all over the couch but I just hand-vacuumed it two days ago so I don’t care. I’d apologize for the mess but …yeah. Whatever. I want to apologize for not having more stuff but IT GOT STOLEN ALREADY BEFORE WE GOT RANSACKED.
Uh, so here’s what I saw when I walked in. Then I walked back outside and sat on the porch for a long while.
My French press appears to be alright. Sort of pictured, some broken glass. Not totally pictured, how the sink is filled with broken glass. That’s a big painting that we were using to block the open window to keep the cats in while we cleaned up. Also the [expletives] left the back door open so thank whatever you want to thank that they didn’t get out.
That’s cool. Just dump that stuff everywhere. I didn’t mind having my laundry hanging up. Or my sheets and towels folded.
I am 900% sure this is not how I left it.
Pris was not having any of it. She stayed passed out for several hours. She is accounted for, and equally cute.
I’m not okay. When stressful things happen to me, my way of coping is to look at each little fact and then find whatever ‘bright side’ can be found within each bit of logic. It keeps me sane.
That isn’t working here. I can’t pull any logic from any of it. It was senseless, reckless, disrespectful, insane. I can kind of imagine what it feels like to be raped, because I have no sense of safety or peace of mind. I’m jumpy and unable to relax, plus I don’t want to go home, because the house just feels like a weird hotel. None of my stuff feels like my stuff. I feel very homeless; like the only thing I have is our little family, my purse, my Kindle, my computer and my car.
Our plans to move have been bumped up to ‘as soon as possible’. Obviously we can’t just give a 30 day notice, and obviously we need to save for a down payment. I am considering starting one of those crowd-funded/kickstarter projects to help us get going but right now though I can’t wrap my head around any of this. I can’t really process more than one step in advance of what I need to do right this minute. Like…. okay, next step… shower, set your alarm for work. You have to be in the office at 830AM. (I’m there now, FYI.) Okay, that’s good. How about cleaning up the glass on the kitchen counter. Not the floor, don’t think about vacuuming yet. Okay, go pick up the laundry and just put it all in the hampers. Deal with it later. Just get it off the floor.
Today is hard though. I’m very exhausted and can’t do anything much except stare out the window of my office, where I am now. There is a bunch of work-related paperwork to tackle so my next step is to start on the stuff in Inbox 1.
Hopefully the insurance can help us with a little more money so we can add extra bars to the windows, fix the busted window, fix the fence, and replace a couple stolen items. Our security system install got bumped up to high priority with the company and I think they’ll be able to do it today.
The mess was cleaned up, a very long shower was had, but I still feel broken inside.
This is very draining to talk about which is why I am making kind of a long post in hopes to not talk too much about it further. I’m not looking for sympathy but this is too much to just hold in. I am not okay right now though. That is all.