I am writing to you, dear reader, on my new MacBook. Not the new MacBook from early December; the new MacBook from this morning. For my old new MacBook got stolen last night.
In recent weeks, someone has been sneaking into neighborhood homes in the early evening for a speed-steal. Banking on unlocked doors and laxer security measures when people come home for the day, he's watched and waited until family members are all momentarily out of the room to rush in, swipe the most expensive electronic device or the handbag draped over a chair, and rush out, leaving only a door banging in his wake.
Last night, the kids were asleep and The Hubster was upstairs working. I was sprawled in front of the boob tube. I had three minutes to go before my film came on. Health had won out over laziness after a twenty-minute battle, and I dashed upstairs to grab my exercise clothes.
A major BOOM. In a split second I went from "that can't possibly be one of the kids falling out of bed" to "oh, SHIT." I ran downstairs, yelling "HEY!" on my way down in hope of scaring the intruder away before he got his hands on anything. Less than fifteen seconds after the BOOM, I was in my living room, staring at a door banging in the wind, and an empty spot on the kitchen table where my MacBook had been.
Despite the police bulletins and letters from school, I hadn't remotely dreamed we'd be hit. Our doors were locked. The BOOM was the ripping of the back door deadbolt right through the wooden frame. Holy shit.
The creepy part is that someone (someone big and really, really strong, with balls the size of Kansas) stood in my back yard, watching me watch TV until I gave him his window of opportunity. How long did he stand there? How many nights in a row?
Our insurance will most likely reimburse the full cost of the old laptop; I lost two weeks' translation work, but not much else, since the MacBook was so new. The intruder left behind the external hard drive containing the past three years' work and our family photos, nicely gift-wrapped for him with attached power cord beside the MacBook on the kitchen table; perhaps my staircase yell is to thank for that. No one got hurt. It could have been so much worse. In so many ways. Even an event like this gives me pause for thanks.
Though I'd still like to kick the sommabitch in the balls if they ever find him. And then chop off both his pinkies.
5 hours ago
8 comments:
That is some scary stuff! I used to live in a small town where no one ever locked their doors. After about 10 years, someone finally got in there and stole some valuable baseball memorabilia and my US$3,000 pool cue...
It's the creepiness of someone being in my house that freaked me out the most...
Sorry about you losing your laptop and the associated work... I use one of those flash drives now, just in case (I bought an 8 gig stainless steel version for about $35.00 on amazon -- a lot cheaper if you go without the SS).
Yeah, it's the idea that someone with thought process quite alien to me, being IN MY HOUSE. At first I wished I'd gotten downstairs soon enough to jump on his back and try to strangle him, but in all honesty, he'd probably have crushed me between his thumb and forefinger. So I'm just glad none of us met him.
Today's replacement of the MacBook included the additional purchase of a Time Capsule for regular Time Machine backups. Wanted it the first time, thought it was too expensive, have learned it would be much less expensive in all ways to have one.
Holy crap. That sucks. I just hope he slipped on his way back to the get-a-way car and your loyal macbook gave him a painful neck injury as his big, fat,greasy body plummeted down on top of it.
I just don't understand people. My stuff was stolen not too long ago at a movie theatre...but is nothing comparable to a strange, asshole sneaking his way into your very own house.
Sorry about this. You def. hit a nerve with your post. Death to all thieving assholes!!
Seafood, I don't understand people, either. I don't understand stealing other people's stuff, and I REALLY don't understand taking the incredible risk of doing so when they're home. I may be a tiny flea to these thieves, but my husband is a pretty big guy.
Brrrrrrr.
That is really scary. Glad you're all safe.
Better you should kick him in the pinkies and chop off...well, you get the picture. Awful!! Here's to lightning never striking twice.
Keris - thanks! Me too!
Deborah - LOL. As long as I'm wielding the knife, might as well cut both off. And I'm only one in a long line of folks no doubt eager to 'serve papers' on the guy.
Just finshed a book about iron-branding (? "brandmerken") in the Netherlands. Appearantly we were the last European country to make that illegal - in 1854...
When something like that happends you have a barbaric moment of wishing a big big T on their foreheads though.
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