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Ratbastid... that really sucks... I know that sinking feeling quite well.
My first experience with this was when my first bike was stolen from the parking garage where I lived about 10 years ago... I loved my bike. It was my main form of transport. It wasn't fancy or, to my thinking, worth stealing. But when I went down to get it one morning it was gone.
I had the same vacant stare... did I lock it up outside? Did I leave it at the cinema (where I used to work)? Then the slow creep of realization and the warm feeling of anger seeps in...
The next time I experienced these feelings was when my house was broken into a couple of years ago... I returned home with my wife and son to find our front room all in a shambles... at first I thought the house was just messy but then I realized it had been ransacked.
They got my laptop, a DVD player, some jewelry, and most sickeningly they swiped my (at the time) 6-year-old son's piggy bank. The bastard even stubbed out a cigarette on our rug in front of the TV...
It turns out he broke in by jimmying the sliding doors from the upstairs deck (it leads to my son's room).
We called the cops and they were there in minutes (turns out our area is a hotspot for break ins). They dusted for prints but found none and took our report. The insurance adjuster was there the next day and handed me a cheque on the spot for everything...
They also sent over a repairperson to fix the sliding door.
The feeling of helplessness and violation was great. I slept with a bokken beside my bed for weeks after and had an alarm system installed within the week.
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"My hands are on fire. Hands are on fire. Ain't got no more time for all you charlatans and liars."
- Old Man Luedecke
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