Thank you to everyone who offered suggestions about how to deal with the crackberry. Those who suggested only using it during work hours were on the mark, I thought. And those who suggested making it clear about the lines in which people could or could not contact me, were also pretty good. But I’d like to extend my greatest thanks to the person who organised for someone to break into my apartment last night and steal it.
And no, I’m not joking. When I woke this morning I went looking for the crackberry and couldn’t find it. “Odd”, I thought to myself, so I checked all of the unusual and silly places such as inside the fridge or the microwave. And so I called it, and it went straight to voice mail. “It’s here somewhere”, I thought to myself, and I’m sure I’ll find it later today. And then I went looking for my wallett, and that was missing too.
“Oh my goodness, someone has broken into my house while I was asleep”, I soon realised. Feeling a little embarassed to have to make the call (in case I was just absent minded), I held off for a few minutes before calling my boss to tell him I was gonna be late. And then all of a sudden I blurted it out, “I think I’ve been broken into while I’ve been asleep”.
Thankfully I didn’t lose much. Work will cover the phone, thankgoodness. I’m pissed off about the camera, since it was such a nifty little thing, though thankfully all of the photographs were backed up. And there was only a few dollars in my wallett (they really should have robbed someone who hasn’t just spent three months travelling around Europe), but I did lose the cards which is a pain. Most traumatic was the loss of my Lismore Workers Club Membership Card which guarantees me six free beers when I return home for Christmas!! So yes, I can still laugh.
And I’m also quite philsophical about things. I was reassured that I wasn’t the only stupid person who has slept through a burgalry when my boss told me the same had happened to he and his wife a few years ago.
In fact, today at work a few people have told me stories of having slept through burglaries. “My friend lives on the fourth floor and her house was broken into”, a friend and colleague told me late this afternoon. Also today Damo told me of a friend of his who lives on the eleventh floor of an apartment bloor, and was broken into.
Through sheer athletic strength it’s not uncommon, apparently, for people to climb up the side of apartment blocks and climb through windows and balcony doors. I know, for sure I bolted the front door last night, I’m less sure about the balcony door. And I’m guessing that’s where they gained entry.
The police arrived really quickly this morning and finger printed the balcony door. I couldn’t believe how fast they were, as they arrived literally minutes after my report to the Police Assistance Line. “We were just around the corner”, they told me when I remarked at how quickly they arrived.
“Don’t worry about the mess”, I told them, as they came through the door. “The place hasn’t been ransacked”, I joked, “it always looks like this”.
They finger-printed the door but nothing showed up, unfortunately.
“Are you okay? Do you need to speak to someone?”, one of them said to me, sensing the tears were welling up in my eyes at one point. “If it’s any consolation”, she told me, “they wouldn’t have wanted a confrontation if you’d woken up”.
In some ways I’m glad I slept through it. A friend of mine who is much older than myself came home a few months ago to discover a burglar in his house. I’m glad I didn’t have to confront that. That would have really freaked me out, I’m sure. No, I just slept through it all.
I guess I did, however, sense that something must have been wrong, as I woke briefly in the middle of the night. Within a few seconds, though, I was fast asleep again until half past five this morning. It wasn’t until I was ready to go to work that I noticed anything was wrong. Nothing had really been disturbed.
The only thing that’s a little disturbed is me. If I’d been mugged or something like that I would have felt grief or anger or something like that. But because it all happened in the middle of the night while I was fast asleep I just feel odd.
While some of you might think it’s ironic that I went away for 10 weeks and left the house empty and nothing happened, I think the ultimate irony is that it all happened while I was fast asleep in my bed. If I’d done my usual trick of falling asleep on the couch watching the television it would have been a far different story.
PS… In chatting with friends today and tonight, I’ve been reminded there are some things about living in the city you just don’t tell your family in the country about. A friend reminded me she has never told her family she was once mugged. Another friend reminded me she has never told her family about her house being broken into. For a lot people, Sydney is a scarey place they don’t want to hear about. This is probably one of stories. So if you’re a family member who reads this blog, please keep it to yourself or else everyone else will just worry. OK?