On becoming cynical and clinical

Our house was broken into on January 12th. Read the story here.


Since then:


we have replaced many of the items that were stolen

i turned 41

unemployment benefits dried up

the boy had scarlet fever

grandma died


On April 9th, our house was broken into AGAIN. At 4:30 in the afternoon, a warm sunny day.


The husband and the boy went to the swamp around 2pm. I have been battling an ear infection and decided to lay on the couch with a heating pad on my ear for a bit. I vegged out in front of the tv (watching some stupid movie with Gina Gershon) until 3:15pm when I decided I should get up and get some things done. I had a couple errands to run.


I ran my errands and was milling around Fallen Timbers looking for one more baby gift for my bff's new baby. I didn't hear my phone ring the first time at 4:31pm. I did hear it ring at 4:39pm as I was checking out at Learning Express. It was one of my other bff's. I ignored it, because I think it is SO RUDE when people are yappin on the phone in stores/at checkouts/in restaurants/etc. I listened to my voice mail when I left the store.


The phone call at 4:31pm was Central Security. Our front door sensor had been tripped, and so had the motion sensors inside the house. They dispached the police. The message from my bff said that she just got a call from our security company that our alarm has gone off and they sent the police.


WHAT.THE.FUCK?


I couldn't think. I couldn't see. I had no idea where I had parked. I felt like I was in a vacuum.


ARE.YOU.KIDDING.ME?


I finally found my car, and in hysterics, hauled ass out of the shopping center and made the 20 minute drive home. The longest 20 minutes of my life. I couldn't reach my husband, via phone call or text. I was driving 85 miles an hour in a 50 mile zone, weaving in and out of traffic, and crying. Totally un-safe.


Mid-way home my husband called. He had not heard the messages or read the texts, so he had no idea what was going on. He found out what was going on when he and the boy pulled into the driveway and saw 2 cop cars in front of our house and 4 cops inside our house.


Sure as shit. We had been hit again.


This time, the ballsy bastards broke one of the windows on our front door sidelights.

OUR.FRONT.DOOR. 4:30PM. BROAD.DAYLIGHT.


They reached in and unlocked the door.


Once inside, they filled their backpacks with our new laptops, new wii+controllers+games, new dslr camera, and pulled the new tv off the stand and destroyed it - kicked it, jumped on it or beat it with something. Upstairs they destroyed my husbands external monitor and filled their bags with TWO JEWELRY BOXES of jewelry I have collected over the last 40 years. Woops...41 years.


The majority of the jewelry missing are earrings and bracelets from my friend Jenny. 8 years of buying from and working for her jewelry. Also missing are diamond earrings, a diamond pendant, several gold/semiprecious rings and gold bracelets, lots of silver including a couple tiffany pieces, john hardy bracelets and my pandora bracelet full of charms. Some costume stuff, but mostly gold and silver. My necklaces hang on a rack and thankfully that was untouched.


Not really sure how to put a price tag on a lifetime of baubles. $5k? $10k? UGH.


It was A.LOT.OF.JEWELRY.


As I was crying hysterically over the missing jewelry, my almost 5 year old boy was so sweet and grown up. He calmly told me everything would be ok and that he was here for me. He asked if I wanted a hug. As we were hugging, he told me he was glad I wasn't home when the bad guys came because they could have shot me.


The thieves were clearly pissed that we had an alarm system. They destroyed the key pad and violently RIPPED IT OFF THE WALL...with a hand maddock. The hand maddock was still sticking out of the wall when we arrived...for effect, I'm sure.


Glass all over the floor...and in/on our shoes (because, you know, we take our shoes off at the front door and that's where they sit). Glass. 101 year old wavy glass. They just don't make it like that anymore.


Our cats, once again, were not harmed. I am sure they ran and hid when the window was smashed. Thank goodness.


So, here I am. 13 days later. The boy - yeah, he's sleeping in our bed. Because I want him there. Everyone I see with a backpack is a suspect. Every group of kids I see walking around the neighborhood are suspects. In my dreams I have staged elaborate sting operations where I end up shooting the thieve(s). In the face. With a shotgun.


Neighborhood email list has documented many of the break-ins, and there have been many recently. Witnesses of other break-ins, or attempted break ins, have seen a group of 3 teen/early twenty year old males in (apparent) action. One will walk up to the door, knock, and if no one answers, two of them will break in while the other stands guard. If someone does answer...they will ask if "so and so" is home. When they are told they have the wrong house, they leave.


Our awesome little street alone has been hit 7 times in the past 6-8 months. This is our 9th year in our house and we have never had a problem. Only incident I ever heard about from a neighbor was a stolen car...a car that was parked on the street and unlocked. I guess our windshield was smashed several years ago, but so were 20+ others in the neighborhood. Just distructive jerks with baseball bats. Not a huge deal.


I've seen how the economic downturn has hurt our neighborhood. There have been many foreclosures. There are now many houses boarded up. I have been thinking about photo documenting it...but don't want to attract any (more) bad press. And now, I don't have a camera anyway. It seems as if the bubble has popped.


We love our house. We love our neighborhood. We love our neighbors. We don't want to move. We don't want to let the skumbags win.


I.DON'T.WANT.A.DOG.


I don't really like dogs. And I'm worried about my 12 year old cats. They go ape shit bonkers if someone brings a dog up on our porch. I don't want to stress them out. They're old. And they are our first babies. BUT, we are considering a dog. Talking about it. A puppy. A puppy who grows up into a big ass dog. Hubby wants a German Shepard. We have not said a word about it to the boy, because you know he REALLY WANTS A DOG. He's been asking for one since he could talk.


Eventhough I am upset about the weight gain from this medication, the meds do help keep me sane. Otherwise I think I would be committed to a mental facility by now.