Why March sucks.

Our condo was burgled last night. No one was home at the time, thank Buddha. Among the lost items are my sister's laptop, iPod, and some jewelery. Rowan and I haven't identified anything of ours as missing yet. The thief definitely went thru my stuff. In the computer room the only obvious thing amiss was a shifted lid on one of my comic book boxes. Guess jerkass was in a hurry, looked in the first box (out of a dozen or so), saw comic books, and let the rest go. In my bedroom, my desktop was a mess, papers and books flipped over and spread out, the drawers in my dresser had been opened and closed, and a couple of "cubbies" of books, toys, and collected day-to-day sediment in my Ikea cube case had been swept to the floor. My lightsaber had been handled and discarded on top of the futon. It has not yet been dusted for prints.

Given the usual state of my room, I'm surprised the guy didn't open the door, look around, and figure someone had already robbed me.

The fucker.

It must have happened sometime between 5.30, when my sister left our place to meet me and Rowan for dinner, and 11pm, when we got back from a movie in Harvard Square. In noticed something was amiss within a minute or so of stepping inside, when she saw that her laptop was not on her office desk. In and Rowan checked the rest of the upstairs, while I went downstairs, and we all found other signs of theft. A policeman arrived within a half hour of our calling it in. He checked out our place, agreed that it looked like the guy came in thru the back door, forcing-prying the outside backdoor open.

That fucking fuck.

There's a footprint on a plastic mat in the backyard, pointed toward the gate and the garbage can alley next to the building. No footprints in the snow that still covers the back half of the back yard. Seems like the guy came in and went out thru that alley, the outside back door, and then our inside back door. When we got home, the inside back door was unlocked, and the outside back door was ajar, and the gate, which is usually closed (cuz the other first floor residents have a dog that will romp in the back yard) was open.

Fuckity fuckin fuck.

For a couple hours In and Rowan and I paced and paced and talked a bit and my sister was alternately really angry and shocked and sad and pissed off and when we all sorta settled down, maybe 2am, she and Rowan turned in for the night. Me, I was still restless, and when I thought about trying to sleep, I couldn't get comfortable w the idea of sleeping in my bed after someone had gone mucking around in my stuff in my room.

So, I stripped my futon, pillows, and comforters and did a load of laundry (I'd need some of the stuff in the hamper for vball tonight anyhow), nuked up a late late hot dog dinner, watched LOST off the DVR, started to write a rambling blog post (which probably would've been this one, only with more "fuck") but decided to chop it down to "We were robbed," and eventually fell asleep in the living room. When I woke up this morning, I looked at the three little words and they didn't seem right to me somehow, so I completely removed the body of the post.

Because I'm me, I'll tell you that the movie we came home from was THE NAMESAKE. Originally In and I were going to meet up w Dan to see THE SUPER COPS at the Brattle, but the collector/source of the original print revealed that he actually had a TV-cut version, so it was cancelled, replaced by additional screenings of FRENCH CONNECTION and HARD BOILED. I was way disappointed at not being able to see it, and was still in the mood for a movie. We swung by the Harvard Square theater and the timing worked out for hitting THE NAMESAKE, which I'd been wanting to see. A fun and thoughtful film, probably a great date flick, particularly if one or both of the daters are the children of immigrants. A good little ethnic-American culture shocky rites of passage scrapbook of a film.

Keep on keepin on~

p.s. Except you, you thieving junkie piece of human garbage.

p.p.s. As awful as last night was, sad to say, the violation is only one of several events contributing to March's sucktacular standing. The other events are *not* nearly so vile, but I want it to be known that I'm not judging the entire month on the acts of one hobo addict on one particular fucked-up night.

* Minutes later. I just realized the guy took my old Titanium laptop. Idiot-fucker.