It’s a pretty creepy feeling. Yesterday our house was broken into, ransacked, and burglarized. As I write this, I’m at the end of a long day of picking up the pieces. I’m exhausted and I have a lot left to do.
Our thief must have watched as Rich, Wally, and I had lunch on the deck. When I went back to work and Rich and Wally left shortly thereafter, he must have expected to have the house to himself for a while, because that’s when he made his move. However, Rich returned in an hour and surprised him in the act. Our thief escaped out the back door and through the woods before Rich entered the house.
How much can a guy do in an hour? Well, he can tear your whole house apart. He can scatter your family photographs and keepsakes and underwear from here to Kingdom Come. He can open every drawer and cupboard and sweep the contents onto the floor. He can trample your clothes with dirty footprints. He can take your very own suitcases, backpacks, and grocery tote bags from the closets and fill them with your belongings. He can invade your sanctuary, thoroughly violate your personal space, and rip away your sense of peace and security.
He can make a mess of your stamp room. I don’t know what he thought he might find of value in there, but every inch of it was turned upside down and inside out.
I haven’t begun to clean it yet. There’s so much to do in every room.
In his haste to depart he left evidence -- his jacket laying on my stamp room floor, and a bloody t-shirt in the guest room. Outside we found another t-shirt, more blood, and some footprints by a broken window. Today I noticed a sock (not one of ours) caught on the chain link fence out back.
Our loss was minimal, thank goodness. The police say he’s not likely to return, but I can’t shake the feeling of being watched.
I probably won’t be stamping for a while, but I do have a few things already finished which I’ll share later. Just thought I’d check in with the latest happenings around the Miller residence. Back to the clean up, now. Take care!
