Safe

I'm sitting here tonight in my sweet home, electronically protected by a shiny new alarm.  I guess I feel safe.  I should feel safe.  Last Tuesday I came home and someone had broken into my house and at first I was nuts because, among other things, they took my mom's wedding rings.  Then I was scared.  Scared to sleep.  Scared to stay and scared to go.  Now I'm just mad.  Mad that the rings are gone.  Mad that things I have worked for were taken by people who invaded my home and touched my stuff.  Mad that there is really nothing that can be done except be in my house with an alarm on.

I filled out all kinds of paperwork for the insurance company and it will probably not be good enough.  I don't have pictures or receipts.  I called the police officer with a car description from a neighbor but no one is even pretending that anything can be done and that I'll get those rings back.  I call, the officer writes a report, the insurance company pays (I hope) and it will be like it never happened.  Except for the fact that it's going to take a long time for me to feel safe in my home again.

All in all, I'm pretty lucky.  They just took stuff.  They did pretty minimal damage.  I can afford the alarm.  I have insurance.  Life will go on even if my faith in humanity is less than it was.  I truly hate these people.