The evening started out quite well. Sushi and beers with Stacey and Andrew. Home to read some Infinite Jest and watch Big Brother (BEST EPISODE EVER). To bed, early.
I was out almost immediately. I’ve been working out, with renewed vigor, six days a week for the past five or six weeks and one benefit of regular and frequent exercise is indeed better sleeping patterns. I’ve never been one to struggle with the whole staying asleep thing, but the going to sleep has, on occasion, been a bit of an endeavor. My head hits the pillow and my brain is all LIGHTS! CAMERA! FUCKING ACTION, BITCH! and I spend an hour or so trolling through to do lists, what if scenarios and decorating schemes for various rooms in my house. But the exercise has eradicated the falling asleep issue, I’ve also lost five pounds, my stomach is flat and I can actually see muscle in my arms for the first time ever. They just might be on to something with this whole exercise thing…
Midnight strikes, I’m deep asleep in a dream that involved bloggers and little tiny yearbook photos when I hear, from my slumber, “YES, I’D LIKE TO REPORT A FIGHT HAPPENING OUTSIDE RIGHT NOW.” You know that split second between waking and sleeping when everything real and imagined is blended together? I was right there in that and between the loud booming voice and the dream bloggers, I got all worried and freaked out that the bloggers were fighting and I was SO WORRIED because no, peace and love and harmony, bloggers! But then I realized that no, the bloggers weren’t fighting – thank goodness – and that the loud voice was Andrew, standing in front of our window, peering through the blinds, reporting a fight in progress to our local police dispatch. From his end of the conversation there was a fight happening in the street, right in front of our house, that there were both males and females at the scene, all African American and predominately teenagers.
Basically, same old story. This shit has happened before. There’s a problem house caddy corner to ours that seems filled with teenagers and children, that lacks adult supervision and where toddlers often spend time crying in the front yard by themselves. There’s screaming and door slamming and teen pregnancy and basically this house is the bane of our fucking existence. People move out, it goes for rent, then assholes move back in. Always with hoards of children. So really, we weren’t that surprised. This summer has been notably quiet and we can’t remember having to call the police at all. We’d hoped that our fervent reporting of illicit behavior over the first two summers we lived here had sent a strong message that WE AIN’T GONNA TAKE NO SHIT.
We headed back to sleep after we saw police cars come down the street, figuring their presence would chill out any bullshit that was going on in the area.
A few hours pass, 3 AM hits and there’s a loud, powerful knock at the door. The dogs, naturally, go fucking berserk. Andrew looks out the window, I can tell there’s a police car outside based on the flashing lights I can see through the blinds and I haul myself out of bed and peek outside as Andrew goes downstairs to answer the door. I squint out onto to the street through the blinds thinking I see Andrew’s car door open. I keep squinting at it, turning my head side to side like a confused dog, hoping I’ll recognize it as something else when I see Andrew and two police officers leave the porch and head toward the car and, sure enough, his car had been broken into.
I went downstairs, talked to the cops. I was hoping it was just Andrew’s car, but then one of the officers motioned to mine and said we should probably check to see if anything was taken because, sure enough, they’d busted out the back window of my car as well, rifled through my glove box as well.
The officers told us we were the only ones on the whole entire block to suffer any sort of vehicle vandalism, even though they’d walked down the street looking at other cars and noticed a bass guitar and an amplifier in plain view sitting in a car just up the road from ours. There’s wasn’t anything valuable in our cars, so nothing was taken, except for maybe, possibly, some pocket change I had in my car. They didn’t even take our photo chargers and the police said they were probably looking for money or guns, neither of which we’re dumb enough to leave in a car sitting on the street.
What freaks me out the most is that we were the only ones hit. We were it. And honestly, I can’t help but wonder if this was some sort of targeted event, as in, maybe they broke in to our cars because we’re one of the few white couples on the block or maybe just because they’ve finally figured out we’re the ones who always call the police or maybe I’m totally off-base and it’s an isolated, totally random event that has nothing to do with race or our frequent calls to the police.
Either way, it makes me uneasy. In November we had an attempted break-in while we were in Iowa that happened in broad daylight on a fucking Sunday morning and I can’t help but feel like maybe they felt they could get away with breaking in to the white folks’ home in the middle of the day since we live in a predominately black neighborhood. Honestly, I could write a whole damn post about it all and really, I probably should.
Glass from the window.
After the police left Andrew patched up our windows with cardboard. While he was out there, he saw a guy trying to open up car doors further up our street. So, he called the cops again. And the cops came again and we gave them the hammer we found in Andrew’s car that the thieves apparently forgot when they fled the scene.
We tried to sleep, but couldn’t. We were too full of adrenaline and then some asshole started racing his Acura up our street and through the alley across from us, basically doing laps through our neighborhood. So Andrew called the cops. Again.
While peeking out the windows and seeing if the cops came back down our street again, Andrew spotted the guy he’d seen trying to open car doors a little while earlier. So Andrew called the cops. Again. This time he called the dispatcher by name, telling her he was sorry for calling so much.
We didn’t sleep until the sun came up. We just couldn’t. We were too ramped up, too on alert, too tuned in to any and all bumps in the night that we didn’t end up going back to sleep until after 6 AM, at which point we basically took a nap until the cats started stealing things out of the jewelry bowl next to my bed and batting them around the room, as if we hadn’t enough trouble with thieves for one fucking night.
To answer a few questions you might be having:
– No, insurance won’t cover it because our deductible is higher than the cost of the glass.
– Yes, we have car alarms but for some reason they didn’t go off. Andrew tested his after the incident and it went off just fine so I’m not really sure what the fuck that mess is about.
And then this morning I had another dentist appointment and really, I’m just so over today that I’m seriously considering just going back to sleep until it’s tomorrow and I can start fresh and new and hopefully in less of a foul mood than I’m in right this minute.
So, that was my night. How was yours?