And I'm not talking the dildocam-in-your-va-jay-jay kind of violation.
We arrived home last night around 6:45 to find that our front door wasn't pulled closed. After confirming that we did, in fact lock the door behind us earlier that day, we also saw that our inner foyer door was also open (with a bewildered Buddy standing in the foyer), and then, we saw the sight that made our hearts sink into our toes.
Our back door was wide open, with the moldings and part of the frame ripped from the plaster wall. Our house was broken into while we were gone for the afternoon.
911 was called, we were advised out of the house, and the police were there within minutes. It was a shocking site to see one of the officers draw his pistol while going up the stairs to our second floor (I hastily told him that Peachy was probably hiding under our bed), and, after the house was shown to be empty, we were allowed back inside.
Now, here is the amazing part of this whole thing-nothing was taken. Nothing. Everything was in the place (albeit messy) that we left it in that morning. My car keys were on the peg, the laptop was in its spot in the living room, Sean's tools were in the foyer. All the jewelry, mail and passports still in their hiding places. My infertility meds and sharps were still in their cupboard (gotta check for that, right?).
So, what happened, you wonder? Well, so did we. The police told us that something must have startled whoever it was and they left out the front door. It could have been the cats upstairs on the hardwood floor, a neighbor coming home (both were out for the day); whatever the reason, we were spared from the added disaster of losing valuables precious to both of us. We were also told that there has been a rash of burglaries in our neighborhood lately (and another one across town), so they would "be keeping an eye on things". Needless to say, not one police car cruised by our house last night or today. Great.
Sean spent three hours last night reinforcing the doorjam and frame with steel rods and 2-by-4's-he said that when they replaced the kitchen door they didn't really stabilize it correctly, which was why the intruder was able to smash their way through ( you can see the dent above the doorknob where it is obvious some kind of object was used). I, of course, couldn't get to sleep and finally dropped off at around 4am, after calling out of work-there was NO WAY that I was leaving the house the next morning for work.
It could have been a lot worse-we could've been in the house when it happened, or come home to find them; one of us could've been hurt. So, we're thankful for that. However, that feeling of being violated is something that is harder to shake. I no longer feel safe. I loathe the fact that someone forced their way into our home with the intention of stealing our things. I'm bitter and angry that I'm now fearful of being here alone, or at night.
So, after Sean finishes the bathroom this week, we're cleaning out the basement, and putting the house up for sale (probably within the next month or so). We've been batting the idea around for awhile (in fact, yesterday afternoon we were talking about how we were willing to wait until next year to move, to allow more time to fix up the house and find something new that we really want), but now, this break-in is the catalyst we needed to get our asses in gear.
Time for a change. Not the change we hoped for, but perhaps it will lead to better things for us, all around.