We have another small house that we lived in (it belonged to my great-Aunt) until we got this one and have used primarily as storage until we can finish the renovations on this one, plus every now and then we’d work on a few things on that house, too. Well, it was broken into.
They didn’t just steal the normal things like our table and chairs, all my new china, the flatware and other things from my Mom & Dad’s 50th anniversary party, our freezer, air conditioners, and way too many other things to list; but they also stole the BATHTUB! Ripped it (quite literally) right out of the wall, from upstairs no less. They also stole the SINKS out of the cabinet bases. Trying to not be too maudlin, Lexie said, “We can’t even say everything BUT the kitchen sink, coz they took that, too!”
In the process they either dropped the tub on the toilet or just deliberately destroyed the toilet. It’s in a million pieces all over the upstairs around the bathroom and hall.

They emptied everything out of the boxes and totes and poured the contents all over the floors downstairs, to go through everything, then refilled the empties with what they wanted and left the lids to the totes and tops to the boxes-on the floor.
They took the freezer door off the refrigerator and kept the door but left the refrigerator.

Yesterday I was so numb, I couldn’t even think straight and cried non-stop. I felt like I could be hurt physically and I’d just say, “Oh, I’m hurt,” and it wouldn’t even register. That’s how truly numb I was. It wasn’t so much the theft as the way they did it – cold and calculated.  I felt like the people that did it were saying, “We not only stole-but we STOLE.”

They had to really scope out the area and learn routines of the neighborhood.

It’s a small street only six houses and the neighbors always let us know if someone turns around in the driveway, that’s how well they look out for us and each other.

The house had set empty for almost 10 years before we moved in because my great-Aunt was in a nursing home then we moved in and a couple of years ago we moved out; and all that time no one ever bothered it. A total of nearly 18 years. I’m thankful for all the time it wasn’t bothered, but why now?

I couldn’t go over there. A combination of recuperating still somewhat from my surgery Wednesday and being afraid of what my reaction would be. I still have a very hard time with things that remind me of my assault. And the fact that everything was scattered and messed up; like my office area and desk were after the assault, I was afraid of flashbacks.

The numbness is beginning to wear off, and all I can think is, “I would’ve just given it to you, if you’d asked.”

I mean, it’s just stuff, right.

But now, we can’t finish the fixing up of the house you broke into because it will cost more than we can afford to fix everything you destroyed, which means we won’t be renting it like we’d planned or be able to sell it, which means we’re trapped in a mortgage that we won’t be able to keep paying on and it also leaves a little girl that loved that house with very bad memories now instead of happy ones. And to top it all off, you took her stuffed tiger and wolf her mother gave her for her birthday.


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