So, we got broken in to this past weekend.
I noticed the stuff in my cars' center console moved around the first day. The punks had the indecency to crumple a brand new book of stamps I had in there for any postal emergencies that may arise. It pissed me off, but I figured it was my own children, on the hunt for hidden gems such as bubble gum and pocket change for the ice cream man.
I lacked the motivation to even yell at them, as this is a common occurrence and I choose my battles wisely.
And I was feeling lazy and tired.
Before we went to bed that night, Andy and I were having a discussion about psychic visions and how I have them. Of course, these visions are never helpful in PREVENTING something bad from happening, rather they just prolong my agony because then I KNOW something bad is going to happen, but I have no idea what it is. I need to go to Psychic School so I can learn how to do something useful with it, because it's just starting to really irritate me.
I woke up out of a dead sleep at 4:30am, to find Andy thrashing about...clearly in a bad dream. When you are married to a soldier who has deployed, this is sometimes common. The problem is, when he dreams, he doesn't remember it by morning. So, our new thing is for me to wake him up while he is dreaming (risking getting punched in the face) so that I can ask him what the dream is about.
So that's what I did. He was pretty upset, as the dream was that we were getting robbed, and he had cornered the offender in the garage. Keep in mind, I didn't mention to him about the stuff in my car being messed with.
We went back to sleep a little while later, and in the morning, he went out in the garage to have a smoke and found that we HAD been burglarized. Not only had they messed with both our cars and stolen stuff, but also broke in my garage. Because of the nature of one of the items they stole, we called the MPs to file a police report. They told us that this had been happening with alarming frequency lately, so lock everything up, but there is nothing they can do.
All the meanwhile, the MP kept his hands on his Tazer. (I capitalized Tazer, because it is a weapon that I am actually afraid of and I feel it is deserving of noting its importance.) He kept eyeing us nervously, (IN OUR OWN GARAGE) and I made a mental note to keep my hands where he could clearly see them, and made no sudden movements or walked towards him.
"Please don't taze me...Please don't taze me" I kept thinking. I thought about warning Andy, but then I figured if this dude was intent on taking one of us down for the sport of it, let it be him not me.
I have strong survivalist instincts at the expense of my friends and family members.
I am the kind of gal who likes to take matters in their own hands. Frustrated by the lack of investigative nature in these cops/soldiers, I presented my plan of action to Andy.
We were going to do a stake out and catch the little fuckers.
We rigged a silent alarm on the side of the house, only heard inside, as not to tip off the burglars. Why do we have such a device? Because we used to put it on the refrigerator to prevent the kids from pilfering food at night when we slept.
When we heard the alarm go off, Andy was to immediately speed dial the MPs, and I was going to take off and, in my ninja-like all black spandex (which I own for situations like this) I was going to track them, while texting back to Andy so he could tell the MPs where they were going. I was greatly upset we didn't have a more appropriate method of communication, as headsets would've been optimal.
I was mildly disappointed, as I asked the MP who came to our house if we were allowed to catch them and zip-tie them until the MPs got there, and he said laughed and said no. I wasn't kidding.
I figured I may have to do a few "tuck and rolls" along the ground as I tracked them, which brought in to my head an image of Kevin James from "King of Queens" as "Paul Blart: Mall Cop." I felt at a slight disadvantage, due to my lack of athletic prowess, at being able to get up fast enough if I got down, to which one of my best friends suggested I properly motivate myself with a hotdog tied to a stick dangling over my head. But I didn't have time to construct such an apparatus.
Andy thought my stake out was hilarious. When you are a trained Sniper, I would assume you would look down your nose at such an idea from your wife. However, I am trained in the black arts of stalking (mostly ex-boyfriends and boyfriends of friends). I told him to not underestimate the allure of a stake out, and that he should text his soldiers to ask if they could participate as backup, or contribute some night vision goggles. Unfortunately, they were all out of town, but they were also disappointed, as it was bound to be great fun.
So what was the end result of my adventure? Nothing. We forgot to turn the alarm ON, and we fell asleep, after a coma-inducing meal of homemade meatball sandwiches.
Guess we will have to wait until next time, when I bait my car and install a spy camera on the fence.