The Designer and I have spent the last six or seven months living in an apartment in a city fringe suburb in Sydney. We’ve loved our little enclave, getting around is a breeze and our street has an almost New York feel, thanks to all the warehouse conversions.
About two months ago we were broken into. Somebody climbed into our balcony, pried open the bathroom window and let themselves in. They took our two MacBook Pros (massive sob), two old iPhones, cash and my bath towel (go figure). They went through drawers and threw things around the room. They smoked a cigarette inside and ashed all over the hallway. They violated our home.
We arrived home that day in high spirits. We were making a quick turnaround and were to be heading off to The Designer’s parent’s house for dinner. I was in the bedroom changing when he came in with wide eyes. He said he thought he had left his computer next to the TV that morning. I didn’t catch his drift and told him to calm down, it had to be around here somewhere. Then it hit me. I reached under the bed to where I had stored my own laptop the night before. Hot tears of anger burned my cheeks. I looked desperately back at him.
We called the police and were bounced around from person to person. They told us not to touch anything, The Designer found the cigarette ash while I sat on the couch with tears streaming down my face. I didn’t understand, we had locked up, we had done the right thing… we waited for the cops to come and take statements from us before hightailing it to stay with family. The following week resulted in two visits from the police to fingerprint our apartment and countless phone calls and emails, locksmiths and some heated exchanges with the real estate agent. The fingerprinting team left our apartment looking like this:
The police were helpful, considerate and informative. We learned that our apartment had been broken into previously and through the same window. Our real estate agent replied to this information with a cursory message detailing the consequences of breaking our lease.
So, here we are. We feel like that robber took a little bit of our souls. A part of me hates myself for being so selfish. So many others have so little. I try to not let it get to me but sometimes I can’t stop it. I’m writing this post because I have been and am feeling so much about the experience. I am so angry that this happened. I am so relieved we weren’t there when it did. I am nervous it will happen again.
We’re moving. It all happened within a twenty four hour period and now I live somewhere else. This post is about acknowledging the crapness of the break-in but at the same time celebrating everything that I loved so much about living in the city and everything that I am looking forward to in a house (a house!) that will become our home.
It’s about saying goodbye to this:
And saying hello to this:
So, Internet, let’s raise our glasses to change. I am a neurotic type, opposed to change generally and you won’t see me doing this too often. But sometimes, just sometimes, I am challenged and it works out beautifully. Although I was nervous about this move, I am getting really excited. A herb garden is on the horizon, maybe a puppy… A toast, to life and loving it no matter what.