Robbed, I Tell You
So. What can I say about being burglarized that’s constructive?
Well, first off, none of us were hurt. The thief broke in in the middle of the day, and we all (oddly) happened to be gone. So the burglar got our stuff, but the baby is safe. It makes me feel better just to type that, actually. Isn’t it nicer when you don’t have to attack a guy climbing in your apartment window while the baby looks on? I think so.
Fortunately, our sentimental things are mostly not expensive things, but this whole robbery gig is starting to feel personal. As you may remember, in December, someone stole my purse while we were in Argentina. The car’s been broken into a couple of times in the last year (always in different neighborhoods), and Bryan had his bike stolen from a coffee shop near his office a couple months ago. Whee!
However, having a baddie inside the house is a whole new level of yuck. Seeing all our drawers dumped out on the bed, waiting for the police to come take fingerprints, noticing one thing is gone, and then another, all day long. It’s gross. It makes me want to give the whole apartment a shower.
Anyway, we’re fine, but shaken. For the next few days I’m going to try not to cry when someone cuts me off in traffic or is curt to me as I’m ordering coffee, and then we’ll see how it goes.
Thanks to everyone who Twittered their concern. You guys keep proving how nice you are, and that is why I like you.