Geez, it hasn’t been an easy week. David is in London -- that’s never easy, another squamous cell removal (everyone should have a body check), and some thief decided to avail himself of my ipad, and all our (jordan, mom, me), jewelery. Out of those three, too bad for Iris sagas, the robbery was the most invasive. Although my arm isn’t that pretty....
When we lived in Virgina, our cars were broken into a number of times. OK, so even after the first break in you would think we would lock them. We didn’t. The thief was smart enough to know we were idiots and even though we left nothing in the car, he kept coming back. After the third robbery, we remembered not to leave them open. That was not as horrible because he didn’t get into the house. Outside seemed like a pain in the ass, but it was, outside.
As I cam in the front door (which was locked) and saw the paperwork from the fireplace on the floor, I knew there was trouble “a brewin” at the Burnett homestead. Then I noticed the rock and glass on the floor-- also not a good sign. “Hello”, I yelled, hoping no one would answer. The walk to my bedroom was painful, and yet somewhat hopeful. Nothing was touched in Seth’s room. Unfortunately, that was not the case in Jordan’s room. The jewelry box was on the floor, the contents of five or six dresser drawers were scattered about, and the shelves in the closet were emptied on to the bed. Goodbye hope. I went into our bedroom. The first thing I saw was a treasured box of Jordan’s baby clothes ripped apart. (Guess he didn’t have a baby or bronchitis because both the clothes and medication remained untouched). Then the jewelry hanging bag and, my mother’s well hidden jewelry box -- with the junk contents scattered, but the good stuff gone. The guy had no sense of humor because he didn’t take the gold boxer shorts we bought for David a few years ago --tags still attached.
He went through the night tables, hoping for money or drugs. Most of my medication is generic so he didn’t know what it was. There was no money --we don’t have any lying around. First I called my cousins. They came running. Then I called 911. There was no answer. I thought that was hilarious. So we called the direct police number, but they had to transfer us to the correct police department. They eventually got to the house and couldn’t have been nicer or more sympathetic. They apologized for any delay and explained, there were simply not enough police to handle the rash of robberies in the area.
The detectives took pictures. The police gave me questions to think about, and we started to clean up. Admittedly, the thought of someone touching my t-shirts was unpleasant, but not a disconcerting as drinking soured expired cream. I don’t mean to make light of this. It was terrifying, but luckily the missing items, were only things. Stuff that mostly had sentimental value -- but not like the pictures, or someone’s life. Listen up all you thieves, and drug addicts-- you took my peace of mind, and all the golden crap, with which my mother adorned herself and refused to part. There is nothing left in the house to steal.
The other day we were talking about the possibility of class warfare in this country. Someone asked me if I wanted a gun. What would I do with it -- shoot my foot. Given the things he took, our thief was probably a drug addict. But maybe not. The economy sucks, there are millions of people out of work who can’t feed their families, buy medication, or afford gas for their cars. It is a desperate time for too many friends and neighbors. This kind of experience highlights the reality of the world in which we live. We better do something soon, because I don’t want to be afraid in my own home and I really want to live happily ever after. We're Just Sayin.... Iris
When we lived in Virgina, our cars were broken into a number of times. OK, so even after the first break in you would think we would lock them. We didn’t. The thief was smart enough to know we were idiots and even though we left nothing in the car, he kept coming back. After the third robbery, we remembered not to leave them open. That was not as horrible because he didn’t get into the house. Outside seemed like a pain in the ass, but it was, outside.
As I cam in the front door (which was locked) and saw the paperwork from the fireplace on the floor, I knew there was trouble “a brewin” at the Burnett homestead. Then I noticed the rock and glass on the floor-- also not a good sign. “Hello”, I yelled, hoping no one would answer. The walk to my bedroom was painful, and yet somewhat hopeful. Nothing was touched in Seth’s room. Unfortunately, that was not the case in Jordan’s room. The jewelry box was on the floor, the contents of five or six dresser drawers were scattered about, and the shelves in the closet were emptied on to the bed. Goodbye hope. I went into our bedroom. The first thing I saw was a treasured box of Jordan’s baby clothes ripped apart. (Guess he didn’t have a baby or bronchitis because both the clothes and medication remained untouched). Then the jewelry hanging bag and, my mother’s well hidden jewelry box -- with the junk contents scattered, but the good stuff gone. The guy had no sense of humor because he didn’t take the gold boxer shorts we bought for David a few years ago --tags still attached.
He went through the night tables, hoping for money or drugs. Most of my medication is generic so he didn’t know what it was. There was no money --we don’t have any lying around. First I called my cousins. They came running. Then I called 911. There was no answer. I thought that was hilarious. So we called the direct police number, but they had to transfer us to the correct police department. They eventually got to the house and couldn’t have been nicer or more sympathetic. They apologized for any delay and explained, there were simply not enough police to handle the rash of robberies in the area.
The detectives took pictures. The police gave me questions to think about, and we started to clean up. Admittedly, the thought of someone touching my t-shirts was unpleasant, but not a disconcerting as drinking soured expired cream. I don’t mean to make light of this. It was terrifying, but luckily the missing items, were only things. Stuff that mostly had sentimental value -- but not like the pictures, or someone’s life. Listen up all you thieves, and drug addicts-- you took my peace of mind, and all the golden crap, with which my mother adorned herself and refused to part. There is nothing left in the house to steal.
The other day we were talking about the possibility of class warfare in this country. Someone asked me if I wanted a gun. What would I do with it -- shoot my foot. Given the things he took, our thief was probably a drug addict. But maybe not. The economy sucks, there are millions of people out of work who can’t feed their families, buy medication, or afford gas for their cars. It is a desperate time for too many friends and neighbors. This kind of experience highlights the reality of the world in which we live. We better do something soon, because I don’t want to be afraid in my own home and I really want to live happily ever after. We're Just Sayin.... Iris
1 comment:
Yes..A gun,Iris.. Ventillate one of those bastards,and the message will be clear!
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