My place got broken into last night.
Well, my garage, but still it's part of my place. Sometime between 8:30 and 10 pm. Weirdest feeling rolling up in your driveway and seeing the door wide open. Knowing someone has been in your place and stuff. Someone you don't know... or maybe.
I don't know or think anything valuable was stolen... I tended to use it more as storage for old videotape movies, books, hard copies of manuscripts, and albums/cassettes from the old days. Tons of albums strewn all over the floor.
The cops were nonchalant. Go figure. You'd think in a part of town where "nothing happens," that this type of incident would matter. Asked me, "what would you like to see done." I'm like, "Fingerprint. Take a report. Give me a copy. Anything besides shine your flashlight in the garage."
I parked on the street last night. Hardly got sleep. Thought I heard noises, footsteps on my walkway. Unnecessary paranoia. Needed a sleeping pill. Brought "valuables" with me to work. Just in case. Not that material goods are more valuable than life. Just important documents, papers, credit cards, keys.
Still... I see why grandparents and the elders always have that paranoia about their stuff... locking the house, double-checking windows, not wanting to be away too long from the house.
The ironic part.
During the 8:30 to 10 pm time I was being burglared, I was talking/counseling a friend who is dating/messing around with someone who is "this close" to trouble and a criminal life... warrants, possessiveness/jealousy, regular drinking and driving. He thinks it's cute, that the man will change. But I know crazy/trouble/intensity, and that this flirtation with danger is a formula for disaster.
I just hope something breaks in and that he doesn't end up losing more than a few days he could be with someone else. I hope I don't have to deal with any other break ins of this sort too.
No one deserves to have their trust or space violated.