After a rather less than pleasant weekend at the Dillon Regatta, Pat and I arrived home to another unpleasant surprise. When we opened the garage door, we discovered that the door leading into the house was open, propped up with a bag of stuff that had been in the garage. When I started to walk into the master bedroom, I discovered the room in total disarray, with stuff dumped from the dresser onto the floor and drawers left hanging open, and my large jewelry chest missing. Next, I realized the back door was standing wide open.
Further exploration revealed that cabinets and drawers had been opened and emptied all over the house (except maybe Tadpole’s room, which had been that way to start with), and the flat-screen TV and VCR/DVD player from the guest room — the backbone of my One Life to Live exercise plan — had been literally ripped off the wall. I hope Tad has his iPod with him; otherwise, that’s missing, too.
However, the thieves did not steal the computer, any of the entertainment center items from the living room (even an old VCR that was already unplugged and sitting, along with its instruction manual and remote control, on the piano bench, ready for us to give to charity), or anything else that we can tell. They didn’t even steal a bottle of Scotch that was sitting out in the open on the kitchen counter or a checkbook that was sitting on the dining table.
The police have told us that chances are slim to none that any of our stuff will ever be recovered. In the case of the TV and VCR/DVD, that’s not such a big deal — those things are easily replaced. It’s the jewelry that hurts — some nice silver-and-turquoise jewelry that Pat bought me as an anniversary gift a few years ago; my grandmother’s college class ring; my, my father’s, and my grandfather’s Phi Beta Kappa keys; my mother-in-law’s pearl necklace and earrings that had been a gift to her from her husband on her wedding day and that in turn were her gift to me on mine, as she was slowly dying of cancer … Those things can’t be replaced.