I had this long, lovely post written about the sadness I feel about leaving our first home. It was chock full of memories, with eloquent nods to how we laughed, cried, partied, remodeled and generally grew up in that house. I just needed to put a few finishing touches on it in the morning. So I closed my computer yesterday and headed home.
Once home and through the door, it took an embarrassingly long time to ascertain what had happened, why all our belongings were splayed across every surface, cabinets open and drawers askew.
The house was broken into and we were robbed.
There wasn’t much that the burglar perceived as valuable, just some prescription pills and a laptop. The TVs were still intact, an indication according to the police it was one person. Sadly, the most expensive item stolen was our sense of security.
Today I was still thinking about posting my thoughts, just editing them to emphasize to the crummy I guess the universe is trying to tell me something-