Is there such thing as survivors guilt for a robbery?
So as everyone on Facebook with me already knows, my house was robbed yesterday. This came directly on the heels of my office being robbed (my laptop was stolen) and when I went home yesterday it was with a head full of "ok, I have to change things up so that my apartment is protected from burglars." I used to have a roommate home at pretty much any time I wasn't there so that provided a kind of renter's insurance but in the last month that has changed which left us vulnerable. I had had these spikes of paranoia before about how vulnerable we were to robbery, being a ground floor apartment next to an abandoned house, but I never acted on them. Part of this is my actively trying to suppress my paranoid tendencies which, apparently, I should have been giving full rein to. Even though I am not making enough, within the past year I've been trying to improve my living situation to the point where I can have nice things so I had a new tv, a new computer, and was in the process of getting a new entertainment system set up in the living room. In fact, I came home last night with a power supply and HDMI cable for said system last night.
I tried to open the door, getting back at 7:30, and was surprised to find the deadbolt was locked. I figured that this was probably caused by the new roommate not knowing what was what. I unlocked it and came in to see that the door to my room was open. I always shut it to keep the cats out so I was pretty pissed that someone left it open, presumably to go in and use my bathroom. My new computer(s) were there, but my bathroom door was open and my autographed Great Outdoor Fight poster which I had recently framed was on the floor. Some careless fuck really needed to take a shit I guess! At this point I was too pissed about the possibility of cats in my room to notice that my dresser drawers were ripped open. I've always had this weird ability to memorize where things are when I leave them in a place and my whole room was giving me the skeeves but at this point I was still under the assumption that my new roommate didn't know how things are done around here. (I apologize for that, in hindsight, it just seemed like the simplest explanation at the time.)
I storm out of my room, on the warpath, past all the expensive musical equipment that has been in my foyer, and into the living room where I see a big hold where my tv used to be. It was at that point where I realized that we'd been robbed.
From that point on I have been in a constant state of crawling skin. I went to every room to see what happened. My brother's computer was gone and his room was tossed pretty bad. Christian's was the same way. They left the back door wide open to the elements and one of the cats got out. The window next to the dryer was cracked open and strips of the plastic we use to seal them during the winter were sluggishly stirring in time to gusts of wind. Numb, autopilot, I closed everything up using a pair of boxer briefs to preserve fingerprints and called Scott and then the cops. From that point until the cops came it was a series of horrendous shocks, one after another. As stupid as it sounds, it was like the ending of Return Of The King. Is this over yet? Oh no, there's more! Shit, did they take my computer? No it's still there. Did they take my checkbook? No. HOLY SHIT THEY TRIED TO STEAL MY CAR. Why didn't they steal my car? Did I interrupt them? Is my car not worth stealing?? Oh fuck, I hope Scott backed up his recordings on his external hard drive. WAIT. IS the hard drive still there? They stole all of our DVD's?? Who does that? Why'd they have to take my unremastered Star Wars set but leave Return of the Jedi? Holy shit, why didn't they take my brand new gaming computer? Christian's safe is gone? That had his passport in it! Oh my god did they steal the Ripper? Oh wait, no, it's in the shop. 45 minutes of that shit will fuck you up and leave you a jangles mess of nerve endings.
Scott and Christian came back about 5 minutes before the cops. They walked through and looked at stuff but there wasn't much we could do. Apparently they get like two calls like this a day now on account that my neighborhood is becoming downwardly mobile due to the recession. After they left I put my room back together and had a number of extremely racist/Republican thoughts about things. I totally understand how someone become so worked up that they move to the suburbs, buy a gun and vote for Sarah Palin now. I also, (and I would never equate the two things at all but I am just saying that I understand how people feel now and why this happens) totally understand why rape victims take a shower despite that it destroys all evidence. You just want to be clean. When I finally got out of the shower i got dressed to a strange rhythmic sound that I couldn't quite place. Upon further investigation it turns out that my brother was sawing wood in the kitchen at 11pm. All the plastic was off the windows wand he was cramming wood slats in there to jam the windows closed. We should have done it years ago but without the plastic the place is fucking freezing. Fortunately my liquor cabinet was untouched so I passed around my $75 scotch, among other things. We drink today who might die tomorrow.
I tried to fall asleep and woke up at about 3am because I heard a noise. I picked up the hammer I was using to drive nails in my wall to hang pictures (the peccary skull I painted in college is now hanging over my bed.) and planned out exactly how I would silently sneak through the darkness and cave the head in of whoever was in my house. I considered the possibility of waiting by the door to see if they'd try to come into my room but then I opted to stalk them through my pitch dark apartment and take advantage of my knowledge of the terrain to strike them with the element of surprise. About 2 seconds later I realized that it was just my brother getting up to use the bathroom. That was fucked, and you should all be having nightmares of my coming out of the darkness with a hammer to stave your face in. To help you picture the situation, I was naked at the time so imagine David with a hammer and that's about right though you can feel free to add more to the dong area if you like.
The next few hours was sheer hell. I have barely been able to sleep for about a month but every little noise now was another incitement to murder. Eventually, at around 5 I got so worked up I opted to call a friend of mine who is an insomniac and she talked be down after about 90 minutes. 30 seconds after I hung up my alarm went off. Work was fucking horrible as all I could think about is someone coming back and finishing the job. They obviously got interrupted or spooked while in my room but they saw my computers, etc so they were probably going to come back, right? Probably while I was at work like last time! I should just quit my job wait for them and kill them once they are in my house. If the Simpsons Cape Fear episode taught me nothing else it's that once they are in your house whatever you do to them is perfectly legal. I know that, objectively, no one's life is wroth just a bunch of stuff but it is fucking hard to keep that in perspective right now. It is 3am and I am going to try to drink myself to sleep. 7 hours of sleep in the last two days, I get ore when I'm on tour.
Macbeth hath murdered sleep. Macbeth shall sleep no more.
I tried to open the door, getting back at 7:30, and was surprised to find the deadbolt was locked. I figured that this was probably caused by the new roommate not knowing what was what. I unlocked it and came in to see that the door to my room was open. I always shut it to keep the cats out so I was pretty pissed that someone left it open, presumably to go in and use my bathroom. My new computer(s) were there, but my bathroom door was open and my autographed Great Outdoor Fight poster which I had recently framed was on the floor. Some careless fuck really needed to take a shit I guess! At this point I was too pissed about the possibility of cats in my room to notice that my dresser drawers were ripped open. I've always had this weird ability to memorize where things are when I leave them in a place and my whole room was giving me the skeeves but at this point I was still under the assumption that my new roommate didn't know how things are done around here. (I apologize for that, in hindsight, it just seemed like the simplest explanation at the time.)
I storm out of my room, on the warpath, past all the expensive musical equipment that has been in my foyer, and into the living room where I see a big hold where my tv used to be. It was at that point where I realized that we'd been robbed.
From that point on I have been in a constant state of crawling skin. I went to every room to see what happened. My brother's computer was gone and his room was tossed pretty bad. Christian's was the same way. They left the back door wide open to the elements and one of the cats got out. The window next to the dryer was cracked open and strips of the plastic we use to seal them during the winter were sluggishly stirring in time to gusts of wind. Numb, autopilot, I closed everything up using a pair of boxer briefs to preserve fingerprints and called Scott and then the cops. From that point until the cops came it was a series of horrendous shocks, one after another. As stupid as it sounds, it was like the ending of Return Of The King. Is this over yet? Oh no, there's more! Shit, did they take my computer? No it's still there. Did they take my checkbook? No. HOLY SHIT THEY TRIED TO STEAL MY CAR. Why didn't they steal my car? Did I interrupt them? Is my car not worth stealing?? Oh fuck, I hope Scott backed up his recordings on his external hard drive. WAIT. IS the hard drive still there? They stole all of our DVD's?? Who does that? Why'd they have to take my unremastered Star Wars set but leave Return of the Jedi? Holy shit, why didn't they take my brand new gaming computer? Christian's safe is gone? That had his passport in it! Oh my god did they steal the Ripper? Oh wait, no, it's in the shop. 45 minutes of that shit will fuck you up and leave you a jangles mess of nerve endings.
Scott and Christian came back about 5 minutes before the cops. They walked through and looked at stuff but there wasn't much we could do. Apparently they get like two calls like this a day now on account that my neighborhood is becoming downwardly mobile due to the recession. After they left I put my room back together and had a number of extremely racist/Republican thoughts about things. I totally understand how someone become so worked up that they move to the suburbs, buy a gun and vote for Sarah Palin now. I also, (and I would never equate the two things at all but I am just saying that I understand how people feel now and why this happens) totally understand why rape victims take a shower despite that it destroys all evidence. You just want to be clean. When I finally got out of the shower i got dressed to a strange rhythmic sound that I couldn't quite place. Upon further investigation it turns out that my brother was sawing wood in the kitchen at 11pm. All the plastic was off the windows wand he was cramming wood slats in there to jam the windows closed. We should have done it years ago but without the plastic the place is fucking freezing. Fortunately my liquor cabinet was untouched so I passed around my $75 scotch, among other things. We drink today who might die tomorrow.
I tried to fall asleep and woke up at about 3am because I heard a noise. I picked up the hammer I was using to drive nails in my wall to hang pictures (the peccary skull I painted in college is now hanging over my bed.) and planned out exactly how I would silently sneak through the darkness and cave the head in of whoever was in my house. I considered the possibility of waiting by the door to see if they'd try to come into my room but then I opted to stalk them through my pitch dark apartment and take advantage of my knowledge of the terrain to strike them with the element of surprise. About 2 seconds later I realized that it was just my brother getting up to use the bathroom. That was fucked, and you should all be having nightmares of my coming out of the darkness with a hammer to stave your face in. To help you picture the situation, I was naked at the time so imagine David with a hammer and that's about right though you can feel free to add more to the dong area if you like.
The next few hours was sheer hell. I have barely been able to sleep for about a month but every little noise now was another incitement to murder. Eventually, at around 5 I got so worked up I opted to call a friend of mine who is an insomniac and she talked be down after about 90 minutes. 30 seconds after I hung up my alarm went off. Work was fucking horrible as all I could think about is someone coming back and finishing the job. They obviously got interrupted or spooked while in my room but they saw my computers, etc so they were probably going to come back, right? Probably while I was at work like last time! I should just quit my job wait for them and kill them once they are in my house. If the Simpsons Cape Fear episode taught me nothing else it's that once they are in your house whatever you do to them is perfectly legal. I know that, objectively, no one's life is wroth just a bunch of stuff but it is fucking hard to keep that in perspective right now. It is 3am and I am going to try to drink myself to sleep. 7 hours of sleep in the last two days, I get ore when I'm on tour.
Macbeth hath murdered sleep. Macbeth shall sleep no more.