A Wii Bit of Perspective

I just found this "vent" piece that I wrote a year ago, shortly after our house was broken into. I fully intended it to be the beginning of my blogging experience but you all know how that turned out ;).

March [2010] may be winding down but David and I are definitely feeling the luck of the 1/8 Irish (on my side; we'll call David Irish by association). Our families are well, we are healthy and employed, our Lil' Raf bun is baking away nicely and the jackholes that burgled our house this past Tuesday didn't steal anything of value to us. Sure, Duncan experienced his own personal "Home Alone" Hell (which we hope his short pup memory has already erased). And sure, some physical damage was done to poor Ruth (our house), bless her hearth, but when all is said and done things could have been so much worse!

Tuesday started out to be a good day. I had a "baby sick" Sunday and okay Monday so by Tuesday, things were looking up. My friend Gina had birthed a healthy baby boy (shout out to baby Bode), the workday was productive and I had eaten lunch! Hallelujah! By the time David and I got home it was 7:30pm and we were trying to decide what to force feed me for dinner when I realized that the media console in our living room was pulled away from the wall and one of the doors was ajar. From what I could see, that cabinet had been completely emptied out.

Now I know my brain is working a bit slower these days but it took me a few minutes to really process what I was seeing before David came in the house and asked me what I was staring at. I was seriously pondering why he would have moved the console before we left for work? Was he obsessing over his intensely zip tied cords in the back? Or had an earthquake somehow managed to make the thing budge during the day (which is really not possible - it's THAT heavy). At that point we agreed that someone had somehow broken in and David advised that I not touch anything. We both did a once over of the main living space but there were no obvious signs of a break in. The latch on the front door was intact and it was locked; the french doors to the backyard were intact and locked. It wasn't until we ventured to the back of the house; to our future son or daughter's room (where the largest window in our home is located; conveniently facing the private confines of our newly fenced-in backyard), and were welcomed by broken glass EVERYWHERE, that our worst fears became a reality. Across the hall, in our room, David's valet had been ransacked. However, my jewelry box, lay seemingly untouched at the other end of the dresser from the valet. The first thing that popped into my mind at that second: "Someone went to all the trouble of breaking a window and blinds, and making a MESS of a room (we had been painting our office at that point so the former guest room was full of boxes and bags that the perp (I use cop talk when I can) traipsed right over on their quest for criminal activity) and they didn't even bother looking for some Tiffany to take?!?".

After our quick scan we grabbed the phones (land line and cell), David called the 5-0 (I love cop talk) and the waiting began. Now I understand that a home burglary is not exactly the biggest emergency in the world, but I am 5 months preg-o and on a strict eating schedule. After almost 30 minutes of waiting I called again and was informed that there was a domestic dispute and the officer headed our way would be there shortly. Oh, I'm sorry, City of Fill-in-the-blank. I didn't realize you had one cop available on Tuesday evenings or I would have scheduled this particular crime on another day *cue my famous supermegaultrahumongoid eyeroll*. The cop finally showed up and we ventured back through the house.

Starting in the living room, we realized that the entire left side of the console cabinet had been cleaned out with the exception of my "Sex and the City: The Complete Series" on DVD which comes in a fancy pants pink velveteen case that I assume was of no interest to HIM. Ha ha! (I can laugh about it now). Yes, I said HIM, because judging by the missing contents of that one cabinet I was able to draw up a character sketch in my head of the perp: some bored, punk ass male kid that lives in or around our neighborhood decided to ditch school early that day (much like all of the other truant days of his short life thus far) and violate people's lives for no reason. The other side of the cabinet is filled with DVDs, none of which were touched, and our TV and large electronics were all in place. I'd like to thank my husband and his maze of super secure zip ties that probably kept anything else from being stolen. That and the fact that it would have to go over a fence; so we had that going for us.

Reasons to be thankful . . . where do I begin? We had closed the office door that morning to keep the dog out because David was doing our taxes and we had personal paperwork spread out all over the place. Had the jackhole "gone there" we'd be in a world of identity theft hurt right now and for the next few years. Our camera, with my growing belly pics, was stashed safely away. Verizon generously processed the rebate for my new phone, even without the original packaging. The window and door and alarm people we have worked with "the morning after" were A-MAZING. So kind, so understanding, and so efficient. It's nice to know that perfect strangers and businesses in your community will do their damndest to have your back in a time of rebuilding. Because that's what we had to do. The damage to Ruth required a new window, new wood blinds, a new doorknob for the outside of our french doors (which the little fool had tried to break into but ended up breaking the knob off because of Andersen doors' fabulous locking mechanisms. If you need a new door, buy Andersen. No, I'm not getting a cent to say that.).

There was glass EVERYWHERE and in every box and bag that was stashed in Lil' Raf's room so David and I tackled that and he re-repaired the window sill he had JUST finished working on and painting a couple of weeks prior. The alarm system we had always talked about getting but never did was installed the next day and we feel better already. Thank goodness that that jewelry box that houses a couple of my most prized pieces, including my grandmother's wedding band and an engraved band that David gave to me for my 18th birthday (which, naturally has its own story that begs to be told down the road), was safe and sound on the dresser. I am so glad that there wasn't room in that ratty (I'm assuming) backpack for one more thing. We're assuming that Dunkers hid when he heard the glass break and could not be more relived about that. He could have been hurt or dognapped (I am being serious, by the way) and that would have been devastating.

The worst part about this whole ordeal? Knowing that some misguided youth (I'm being kind for a moment) had the nerve to jump over OUR fence, break a window in OUR home and violate US so that he could get his hands on some pointless crap to hock for cash to use for God knows what. How does someone get to a point in their lives where any of that sounds reasonable? It's truly disgusting. We got lucky. He took things that didn't mean much to us (I do miss my old school iPod and all of the music other people had shared with me on it that I don't have). But just knowing that a stranger was traipsing through our house, scaring the bejesus out of our small dog and taking what isn't theirs to take is so . . . GRODY.

When I'm not cleaning obsessively, or daydreaming about being here when the punk tries to break in and drawing back the curtains on the french doors rapidly to reveal that someone IS in fact home and scare the bejesus out of HIM as I call the police, who happen to have a squad car (there I go again) in the neighborhood and give them a detailed description of said punk, including his eye color because I saw them so clearly when they bugged out of his head with shock upon seeing me throw back the curtains . . . (there's more but I'll spare you), I am so grateful. Grateful that if all of this was going to happen, it happened before a baby is sleeping in that room and living in this house. Grateful that my family is safe and sound and material things are just that and their being taken away from us has no consequence. Grateful for the somewhat traumatic but real reminder of what's important in this life. And, grateful that I'm pretty sure the last song I was listening to on my iPod was either by Britney Spears, Hall & Oates or some Country artist. Take THAT, punk ass!