How Jim Carrey Ruined My Night

I've been playing out last night's train of events over and over again in my mind akin to that ridiculous psychological thriller, The Butterfly Effect, where Ashton Kutcher is trying desperately to save the fetching Amy Smart from a gloomy fate by reconfiguring his life to exact varying outcomes. The truth is engaging in this logic will drive you mad, but not nearly as crazy as being paranoid that someone was watching over you and your husband in your apt. prior to casing your joint and robbing you of a shitload of electronics.

My apartment was burglarized last night. It was the off Friday evening where I met my husband at work as he was finishing his day and we decided to purchase a lottery ticket, go for dinner, and at my suggestion, see a gawdawful Jim Carrey movie. The electronics of course included my old Mac laptop and my newly purchased Dell laptop. As I have a lot of emotional and sentimental (not to mention, financial) attachment to these two objects, it's been hard. It's also scary to think of all the secure information that resided on that machine and in whose hands that information is being manipulated. In a best case scenario, the thieves aren't after my identity, but even so, you can't take any chances.

Rationally, I know what this one or two-person team stole from my husband and I can be replaced, but that feeling of safety and calm has been stripped away. There's nothing worse than feeling violated in your most private of places and knowing that someone's been going through your things and touching them. As I told my husband this morning, "I know I'm not in any immediate physical danger, but emotionally I can't shake the fear."

This inability to "shake the fear" was in full view last night both as my hands shook nervously while talking with the detectives and later on, when I couldn't sleep and lay awake staring at my snoring husband, haunted by the image of my apt. as it looked when I entered my unlocked door. My husband had been parking the car so I was the first person to enter the apartment after we were robbed to find our lights on and a suitcase ripped open with its contents sprawled across our living room floor. Considering the weather conditions in Boston were -10 last night, the kitchen window that had been kicked in and the broken bars didn't bode well either. After the detectives came and went, and while I played Nancy Drew all night, going on and off Craigslist this AM searching for our stolen goods, my husband tried his best to calm me and let me know that he loved me. I wanted it to be enough, but truthfully, I was petrified.

Food wasn't an alternative since I couldn't bring myself to eat even though my head was dizzy and my body starved. I started inventing songs about murder and revenge and while some were quite creative, my level of anger (which naturally stems from fear) was overwhelming. My husband indulged my copious amounts of hostile energy by pretending a pillow was a punching bag so as he held up the pillow I took my jabs and anger out a bit. It felt good, but unfortunately scared my neighbor who soon knocked on the door and was concerned there might have been another theft. She had heard that if your apt. is broken into once, it's more likely to be hit again. And here the police had been telling us all night the opposite was true

Regardless, my husband and I went to Home Depot today and purchased special locks for the window and an alarm for it. I still don't feel safe, but I did manage to eat half a pint of Dove Chocolate Raspberry ice-cream while writing this post. And maybe some positive can come of all this. Sure, we're not likely to ever see our stuff again, but I'm also relieved to not be experiencing this alone and with someone who loves me so, even if/when his special someone emerges a budding Laila Ali.