It never turns off - like the constant random program on your task manager that has some function, but you don't know what exactly. My body is exhausted yet sleep alludes me again.
Insomnia is not the real culprit here. This time the Trojan Virus was something much more sinister and much more disconcerting. Last night (Sunday night) I came home from a day of prepping for my week at school and some retail therapy as my reward for 6 hours of work. I returned home around 8:00 PM and found something unsettling. I walked into my house from the garage and noticed my bedroom light was on. This is odd because I am a tree hugger and rarely leave lights on if I am not home. My cat Trigger, normally anxiously awaiting my return and subsequent feeding, did not greet me at the door. I turned the corner into the living room and still no cat. I found it odd, but for all of his lovable qualities, Trigger is not a social cat. In fact, he may qualify for some kitty Prozac. So I continued my routine, plugging in the Christmas lights at the front of the house, bringing in some bags from the car, and then I fed the elusive Trigger. His food bowl is in the dining area which is connected to the kitchen (which is connected to the hip bone, which is connected to the thigh bone, etc., etc.). After I fed him I felt a draft. It's November, so drafts aren't unusual, but when I looked where Trigger finally emerged I saw where the draft came from.
My back door - a sliding glass door - was open about 2 feet and Trigger had been hiding in the vertical blinds in the corner.
I immediately closed the door, finding it wouldn't latch properly. I used some elbow grease to get it at least mostly closed. Looking around for something, I pondered grabbing my keys, a vase. Something to help protect me. I knew that I needed the safety of someone or something. I found a pair of floral scissors, basically one step up from safety scissors, and proceeded to look through the rest of the house. Opening all the doors, turning all the corners, I feared what I would find, but thankful nothing was there.
Sense kicked in and I called the police. And then I called my best friend. She wasn't available, so I called my kind, generous friend Jeff who lives a few minutes away. He jumped in his car, talking with me the entire time while I waited. I began to mentally catalogue what was missing while still trying to calm down.
The officer and Jeff arrived at the same time and helped me make some sense (at least chronologically) of what happened. Statements were made, pictures were taken, and my sense of safety plummeted. My sene of vulnerability sky rocketed.
It wasn't just the loss of tangible items - my laptop, only 3 months old :(, my phone charger and power cord for the computer, my ipod and speakers, and some jewelry. It sucks loosing those things I worked damned hard to earn. But more than that was the loss of my sanctuary. My home is my refuge. It is a place I have lived for 8 years - longer than any other residence in my life. I (again) have worked damned hard to afford a mortgage and I am proud of the fact that I have created a comfortable life independently.
But now these ideas have been shaken. Whoever came into my house opened my sock/underwear drawer, riffling through it for money. They handled my personal things, tossing socks and pantyhose aside looking for something valuable. My beloved Grandma Brooks' desk was defiled by these people who had no qualms with taking my personal belongings and taking away my sense of peace. These thieves broke into my locked sliding glass door, necessitating some decent construction work. And, to top it all off, the bastards tracked mud throughout my clean floors.
When I try to sleep, I can't shut off my brain from these violating thoughts. My gut tells me this person or people were in my house when I drove up, turned on the garage door, and scared them away. I was gone for 7 hours on Sunday, so it could have happened anytime, but I doubt someone would want to break in during daylight hours. I potentially was seconds away from encountering this person. And as much as I would like to think I'm a bad ass, who knows how that could have turned out. I am very thankful things were not worse, because they could have been.
Unfortunately, this isn't the first time I have been a victim of a burglary. In 2008 I was mugged in Soulard in St. Louis. I wasn't physically hurt, though I believe the person who stole my bag cut through the strap with a knife and could have easily cut me. And not 6 weeks later, I came home from work around 4:30, parked in the driveway for 10 minutes, left again and realized my purse had been stolen.
I know bad things happen all the time to people who don't deserve it. But why must it keep happening to me? Karma ultimately will win out and these people will receive their justice - I truly believe this. I just hope mine is coming soon. My wonderful friend Beckie told me "the universe isn't personal" when it comes to this type of bad luck. I am trying to convince myself of this.
With my new iphone (which thankful was with me and I don't have to replace), I want to ask Siri to please tell the people who robbed me to fuck off and give me back my sense of security.
I would be remiss not to acknowledge one of the unexpected joyous moments that has happened because of this, and my other incidents. My friends, family, neighbors, co-workers, everyone who knows me has given such an outpouring of love. I cannot begin to say how much that comforts my shaken heart. These gestures of friendship, support, and the self sacrifice people have given make me realize I haven't been truly robbed of anything that is irreplaceable.
Labels: burglary, friendship, karma
