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Thursday, March 22, 2012

If You Give a Mouse a Cookie...

And I thought I had no more stories to tell. Picture it: A sunny afternoon in early March, unseasonably warm. Kacie was in town for a couple days, a visit as welcome as the balmy breeze. After a little recon work, we discovered that one of the shops downtown offers a full Irish breakfast. Of course, I needed it. So, Kacie and I took a jaunty trip to the pub for a little brunch. The breakfast was all right, it tried its hardest, but it was no genuine article.

Anyway, we get back to mine shortly after brunch and Kacie noticed that the back door to my house was slightly ajar. My roommate's car was parked in the lot after a weekend away. I figured she must be in the back yard and left the door open. I told Kacie to close the door, but leave it unlocked, just in case. She had some trouble shoving the door closed, but that's what you get for living in an old house.

Once upstairs, I turned my attention to my large paper lantern, which had sadly torn. Kacie wanted to browse around on her computer, but couldn't find her computer bag. She'd left it in her car, most likely. After a quick fix on my lantern with a little medical tape, I sat down to answer some emails that I had checked before we went to brunch. My laptop, however, was not perched atop my bed as I was sure I'd left it. Let's be honest though, I keep a messy room, that thing could have been anywhere. I leafed through countless piles of clothes on my floor, but my laptop was not to be found. I checked for my power cable- it was unplugged and curled up on the other side of the room. Normally, it's threaded under my bed and plugged into the wall. I never unplug it. Never. Also missing was a cheap, silvery necklace I had bought myself for my birthday. $1.99. Clearly, a priceless item.

The pieces were still falling into place as I ran downstairs. I ripped the back door open to find...

Dynamite.
Fuck. Someone broke into my house. Kacie double checked her car to see if her computer was inside, but no luck. Time to call the cops. I was calm, cool, and collected as always. The call went a little something like this:

          Dispatch Officer: "What seems to be the problem?"
          Me: "Someone broke into my house."
          Dispatch Officer: "What makes you think there was a break-in?"
          Me: "Well, someone jacked the shit out of my back door and my computer is gone."


All of this came just a week after my birthday. Noting a touch of coincidence, I called my brother, whose own house was broken into and robbed around New Year's Eve. We Reedys just can't keep our shit together. The cops, when they came, were very nice and understanding. We even joked about finding evidence, wishing it were as easy as Blue's Clues. The one cop even called my landlord for me, to get the door taken care of. If only things ended there.

The first signs of fallout came at bedtime. It became difficult fr me to sleep at night, constantly thinking about how a stranger was in my house, in my bedroom. I wondered who would break into a house and why. Maybe he was desperate, maybe he was high, whatever. But who looks at a house that isn't theirs and decides to go in? Honestly. Can you picture yourself doing it? I can't. What kind of person would it take?

My sleepless nights soon compounded with upcoming deadlines There were a couple programs I was hoping to apply for to get a little experience in publishing. Applications become much, much harder without the use of regular Internet. I got myself a library card and used their computers, but timed sessions are not conducive to filling out applications/writing entrance essays. In desperation, I stooped to using FedEx's computer lab, which costs 35 cents a minute. A generous coworker let me use his computer to finish up my essays and applications, but it all feels just slapdash enough that I don't hold out much hope toward being accepted.

Then, of course, came the replacing of the door. My roommates and I received the hefty bill for the new door. When my roommate attempted to contest the charges, the landlord fired back about our living situation. Two of us are subletting, which isn't illegal per se, but we're supposed to have had the names on the lease switched. To do so would incur a small fee of about $150/person. If we change the names over quickly enough, the landlord agreed to pay for half of the new door, but we would have to pay the rest. Unless, of course, we failed to change the lessee titles quickly enough, then we'd have to pay the fee and the entire cost of the door.

And on an unrelated note, M & T Bank denied my request for a credit card, citing my lack of credit experience.

I won't even mention the shitstorm that is the other sectors of my life. I'll just sum up and say it ain't swell. A banner couple of months for the Reedy.

But my parents bought me a new computer. Yay. At least there's that.

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