Well, now that I’ve had a chance to sort of take in everything and I’m not so emotional, I can give you my thoughts on perhaps the kind of people who would break into a single woman’s apartment, throw eggs on her wall, and steal her art and her teddy bear.

The first theory is that they were troubled youths, pure and simple. Looking for something fun and rebellious to do, some souvenirs to take, someone else’s booze to drink. I can’t say for sure how long they may have been in my place. Long enough to take a crap, at least. Long enough to get hot enough to turn on the A/C. I just hope they didn’t sleep in my bed.

Then I thought, maybe they were druggies? High on something that enabled them to leap into my balcony with a single bound. They clawed the flimsy lock off the door with their bare nails. In a manic episode they decided they were hungry, took out my eggs, then got mad at the eggs and flung them at my wall. Knowing they would need a new kitchen scale sometime soon to measure out their stash, they took it, along with some soft things (pillows and teddy bear) for when they crashed later.

My most generous interpretation of whom these individuals might have been is that they were a young family, maybe teenagers with a 3 yr old child in tow? A child who pointed at things in my house and said “I want it!” They took paper towels, dish soap, ibuprofen, and measuring cups, among other things. These are all basics I seek out when I start out on my own in a new place. Of course, I tend to buy them instead of stealing. I also don’t think it’s wise to hand a bored kid a carton of eggs, nor to drink to excess while caring for a kid. No matter how much of a little monster they are.

It’s also interesting to note the things that were in my apartment and possibly valuable, yet these criminals did NOT take: my passport, my printer, my Bebe shoes, my insulin in the fridge, and my hair dryer and straightener.

The night after I discovered the break in I slept with all my apartment lights on, and used Hulu to watch a familiar show that I often turn to when looking for a calming presence as I slumber alone: Arrested Development. I can’t say why this is. I just love the Bluths. Reminds me of a simpler time, in my salad days, circa 2005. My future was an unknown hope. It still is now, but with a glint of sadness and yearning for the stupid, carefree days of my youth. 

Anyway. I am slowly cleaning up the mess, discovering new things they took. My nail polish? Really? I’m hesitant to gather and count my DVDs. I already fear they took my Animaniacs volume 1 set. I still sleep with the living room light on.

I haven’t attempted to clean the egg off my walls and carpet yet, mostly because it’s dried up anyway, doesn’t smell, and I know it will be a long, arduous process. It’s also because I feel that if I concentrate any more on their vandalism, it will become too personal. It will feel as if they knew me. They knew I would be totally dumbfounded and enraged at this level of destruction and violation. They knew I would feel my blood boiling with every swipe of the rag. 

Sorry for being dramatic. This really sucks.

I think I’ll be looking to find a new apartment when my lease is up. Perhaps I’ll even cross over into the Kansas side. It’s all a matter of finding a suitable place, and finding the money to move. I hate moving, but I’d rather do that than live in fear. 

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