NOTE: This is an archive post from LiveJournal which has been logged here for posterity.
Here's the pain in the ass thing: the break in has changed our lives, and not necessarily for the better.
On one hand we've got ourselves a monitored alarm, security doors, insurance and written down the serial number of every major electronic in this house.
On the other we're afraid to sleep with our doors closed, afraid to turn off the bathroom light at night, afraid to leave and afraid to stay.
OK, it's not so much we're afraid as we feel safer with those things.
Yesterday I left the house for 10 minutes to go get a paper (I needed it for an assignment, and it had to be yesterday's paper), I felt free and at the same time worried. Free because I'd made it out of the house. Worried because I'd left Holly in there alone.
Today Holly left for work. I slept through her getting up, having a shower and getting ready, but the moment she closed the door (the new lock requires a bit of a slam) I sat bolt upright in bed. Took me about 5 minutes to work out why Holly wasn't here and what had woken me up.
We had almost as many people though our house yesterday then we have had collectively since we moved in.
I would quite like to go to uni today but I can't leave. Still more people are coming (today it's the glazier to replace two panes of glass the fucker cracked when his monkey foot kicked down our fucking door). Plus until the alarm and the safety doors are installed, we're not keen to leave the place.
I hate that he's changed our life. With three kicks he has changed our life.
I can't express how angry that makes me. That he broke into our house with the intention of taking our stuff that we have worked hard for. That he just wanted to take it, and that his greed has led to our fear. That he has made us feel unsafe in our own home because he wanted a PS2 or a big screen TV? That's the worst thing. That all this was over a few fucking gadgets.
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