*hands*
So, my house got broken into today.
We were out. No one was hurt. And it doesn't look like they made it any farther than our bedroom. Which has a sliding glass door, that leads out onto a patio. We don't use the patio, because it has no stairs leading up to it, and it kind of looks rotten on the underside, like it might break off and fall off the house. So we locked it, and blocked it off from the inside with a dresser and a desk, because it's next to useless.
Somehow, they got up, and they got in. Guess the lock wasn't any good on the door, or they were able to wiggle it just right.
(Please, don't anyone point out that if I'd only had a broomstick blocking the sliding glass door, they wouldn't have been able to get in that way. I don't know why we didn't have one. We've had one in any and every other house we've ever had a sliding glass door in. I think because we had it blocked, we forgot, because we couldn't see it. Pointing it out/remembering that we didn't do it is only making me feel shitty. Er.)
We came home, and the Frog wanted to snuggle on mommy and daddy's big bed, so he and I went up to the bedroom, and he climbed up on the bed (which he is very proud of being able to do All By Myself). He got about to the middle and said 'look, Mommy! Money!' and held out a loonie. I took it from him and frowned, then saw the black plug that went on the bottom of my piggy bank.
The piggy bank that I've been putting spare coin and bills in for the past couple years.
The piggy bank that I used to save up for a new camera, a new laptop, and which I was currently using to save up to buy a new computer, since mine is six years old, has been shipped across the country by Canada post once, and owes me nothing.
The piggy bank that had nearly $1000.00 in it.
Gone.
(Please, please don't tell me that I was an idiot to keep that much cash in the house. I know I was an idiot to keep that much cash in the house. But it was in a motherfucking piggy bank. It was a way for the money I was trying to save not to get diverted into food or clothing or gas. Because I put it in there, and I forgot about it until the next time that I put more in there. And I was honest to fuck about to take it to the bank, because it was a lot of money to keep in a piggy bank in the house, beside my bed. So... I know all this. And it makes me want to throw up to think about it, so please, just don't call me an idiot this one time. Okay?)
I don't think they took anything else. My jewelry box was right next to the piggy bank on my dresser, and everything's still there. My father's ring that he got from his parents. My grandfather's watch. My engagement ring. My grandmother's locket. All there. They didn't dig in my dresser and find the fifty dollars that was in there, because it was the kids' money, not my money. Or the chequebooks across the room in the other dresser. I think they found the cash and decided that there was unlikely to be anything else in the house worth that much, and they should quit while they were ahead. Can't say I blame them.
I feel sick to my stomach. It's partly the money. It's a lot the money. And it's a lot the fact that someone was in my house. Someone broke into my fucking house, through my fucking bedroom. On days when I'm home with the kids, I sometimes take a nap when they do. If it was Friday instead of today, I could have been asleep in the bed when they broke in. My kids could have been in the house when they broke in. And when they're napping, and I'm sleeping, the house looks empty. No noise, no lights, no car. The thought of it makes me feel like never sleeping again.
I know that it could have been worse. I know that the fact that we lost anything at all is partly my fault. I just... you know?
*hands*
We were out. No one was hurt. And it doesn't look like they made it any farther than our bedroom. Which has a sliding glass door, that leads out onto a patio. We don't use the patio, because it has no stairs leading up to it, and it kind of looks rotten on the underside, like it might break off and fall off the house. So we locked it, and blocked it off from the inside with a dresser and a desk, because it's next to useless.
Somehow, they got up, and they got in. Guess the lock wasn't any good on the door, or they were able to wiggle it just right.
(Please, don't anyone point out that if I'd only had a broomstick blocking the sliding glass door, they wouldn't have been able to get in that way. I don't know why we didn't have one. We've had one in any and every other house we've ever had a sliding glass door in. I think because we had it blocked, we forgot, because we couldn't see it. Pointing it out/remembering that we didn't do it is only making me feel shitty. Er.)
We came home, and the Frog wanted to snuggle on mommy and daddy's big bed, so he and I went up to the bedroom, and he climbed up on the bed (which he is very proud of being able to do All By Myself). He got about to the middle and said 'look, Mommy! Money!' and held out a loonie. I took it from him and frowned, then saw the black plug that went on the bottom of my piggy bank.
The piggy bank that I've been putting spare coin and bills in for the past couple years.
The piggy bank that I used to save up for a new camera, a new laptop, and which I was currently using to save up to buy a new computer, since mine is six years old, has been shipped across the country by Canada post once, and owes me nothing.
The piggy bank that had nearly $1000.00 in it.
Gone.
(Please, please don't tell me that I was an idiot to keep that much cash in the house. I know I was an idiot to keep that much cash in the house. But it was in a motherfucking piggy bank. It was a way for the money I was trying to save not to get diverted into food or clothing or gas. Because I put it in there, and I forgot about it until the next time that I put more in there. And I was honest to fuck about to take it to the bank, because it was a lot of money to keep in a piggy bank in the house, beside my bed. So... I know all this. And it makes me want to throw up to think about it, so please, just don't call me an idiot this one time. Okay?)
I don't think they took anything else. My jewelry box was right next to the piggy bank on my dresser, and everything's still there. My father's ring that he got from his parents. My grandfather's watch. My engagement ring. My grandmother's locket. All there. They didn't dig in my dresser and find the fifty dollars that was in there, because it was the kids' money, not my money. Or the chequebooks across the room in the other dresser. I think they found the cash and decided that there was unlikely to be anything else in the house worth that much, and they should quit while they were ahead. Can't say I blame them.
I feel sick to my stomach. It's partly the money. It's a lot the money. And it's a lot the fact that someone was in my house. Someone broke into my fucking house, through my fucking bedroom. On days when I'm home with the kids, I sometimes take a nap when they do. If it was Friday instead of today, I could have been asleep in the bed when they broke in. My kids could have been in the house when they broke in. And when they're napping, and I'm sleeping, the house looks empty. No noise, no lights, no car. The thought of it makes me feel like never sleeping again.
I know that it could have been worse. I know that the fact that we lost anything at all is partly my fault. I just... you know?
*hands*