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May 26, 2004

Poorly written, but at least it's written

Crapadoodle. I think I'm hitting that wall that all of my creative endeavors eventually hit. Since I'be been working such long hours at Bob's Hogs, coming home and having to sit down and blog has felt, well, like having a second job. And, since I'm inherently lazy, I've been neglecting my baby blog.

However, I promise to continue to blog, if at least a few of you continue to read. This story is dedicated to my friends Katie and Kyla, who reminded me of it while discussing their upcoming move to Colorado and the state of the house they are moving out of (messy!):

I was robbed on Christmas Day. Actually, Frinklin and I were robbed on Christmas Day, 2001. We were living in our crappy two bedroom apartment, located just a few blocks from where we currently live, and infuriatingly, just days before we were scheduled to move into our shiny new house. We had packed most of our belongings into large boxes that were stacked over much of the (limited) floor space.

The morning of December 25th Frinklin, The Jeffrey, and myself awoke early, as we had much cooking to do before heading to my parent’s house a few miles away. As the potatoes boiled, we opened our own presents and carried several bags of unopened gifts out to our truck for the trip across town. We went through our usual routine (plus some additional searching for last-minute items that had accidentally already been packed) and finished getting ready to leave. Just as we were walking out the door, Frinklin asked if he would need to carry his keys with him. After discussing it momentarily, we left his keys on the nightstand, as I would have both car and house keys for the day.

The Jeffrey thoroughly enjoyed his first Christmas with the entire family. He was remarkably well behaved, and we were all in a festive mood (receiving gift checks always does that to me) upon our return to the crappy apartment. We carted our new boxes and bags into the living room, and proceeded to turn on the light. I noticed that our cats had opened the kitchen cabinet where their food was stored, and I fed them while Frinklin made a second trip to the car.

And then we noticed. The sliding-glass-door was wide open and so were ALL of our cupboards, cabinets, and drawers. The Jeffrey wasn’t going crazy, so we knew there was no one in our house, but KNOWING someone had been INSIDE while we were gone—that sucked any feeling of safeness right out of that place. We noticed other things; the couch had been pulled one foot away from the wall, the mattress had been turned over, our clothes were pulled from the drawers, and my entire jewelry box had been stolen. The jewelry really killed me, as it was almost completely costume jewelry and items that had been hand-made for me by various friends. The only things of real monetary value were earrings and a beautiful Celtic bracelet my parents had purchased for me on their trip to Ireland earlier that year.

The strangest thing we noted as we called the police—not a single electronic item had been touched. We had a brand-new DVD player, along with several UNOPENED DVDs that had been left. The cop said it was probably kids who had left as we pulled into our parking spot. I have one thing to say—those kids were extremely lucky that we took The Jeffrey with us that day. He is one hell of a guard dog, and has no qualms about biting into any strangers with his pit-bull mix jaws.

And the keys! The keys! They were gone. A copy of our house key AND the truck both wandering the streets. We spent a very restless night in our apartment. We contacted locksmiths to change our locks immediately after our sad one to two hours of sleep that night.

The worst part of the whole thing—when we received the police report a few weeks later, the officer had noted, “Victims did not immediately realize that they had been robbed, due to the EXTREMELY MESSY state of the apartment.” Way to add insult to injury there.

Posted by Ensie at May 26, 2004 08:17 PM


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