At the end of work today, I decided I would stop at Dish for a drink on my way home. I left the office at about 5:30 and got halfway down Cooper before deciding that I’d rather go home and relax.

Good thing, I guess, because when I got home I noticed that the swing set in our backyard was moving although it wasn’t windy out.

Weird.

I then saw the neighbor’s motion sensor go off, and noticed a man jumping over our back fence. I wondered “Should I get back in the car and drive to Brian’s job?” but a mixture of curiosity, worry and concern for my cat forced me out of the vehicle. After looking around to make sure no one was nearby, I clutched my purse tightly as I struggled to get my key in the door.

When I got inside, I saw both our laptops on the dining room floor, next to Brian’s drill bits (that’s not where we keep those). I walked into the bedroom and the drill, in its case, was on the bed, the dresser drawers and Brian’s nightstand were open. I pulled the shivering Trish kitty out from her hiding spot under the bed and examined her to make sure she was all right (she’s fine, thank goodness).

He’d come in through the office window, which was broken; the blinds were pushed aside.

I called Brian at work (after he wouldn’t answer his cell TWICE – jerk!) and the guy who answered said “He’s busy.” I told him, “Tell him his house got broken into.” “Oh.”

Then I called the cops. I know I made those two calls out of order, but when something like that happens you can’t fault yourself for not thinking clearly.

I know folks like to rag on the Memphis Police Department, but we didn’t wait very long at all for the police to show up. I’ve heard stories about cops coming and being nonchalant and cynical because they don’t think they can catch the guy, nor do they care, but the officer who came here was super nice, even talked guitars for a second with Brian while we showed him where the burglar had been and what he did. The perp left his bike in our yard, and the officer was pretty sure he knew who the bike’s owner was, so maybe we’ll get some justice.

He only got two things (as far as we can tell): a jar of change and my 60 GB iPod Video, Deb Jr. (Yes, I am a “namer”). Brian had gotten me the iPod as a college graduation gift so it’s a little hard to reconcile the sentimental value with the “Well, that’s all they got,” “It’s just stuff,” and “At least nobody was hurt.” I mean, what if I had decided to get that drink? I would have given this guy enough time to get out with our stuff plus more stuff he would have found, had I not pulled up in the driveway at that moment. He could have hurt my cat. Plus I would have been drunk when the cops came.

I feel violated. I don’t understand how someone can take a tour through someone’s life – our house says everything about us, from the framed photos to the Tigers memorabilia to our record collection – and still want to take their belongings. Because I don’t think this person decided to leave our Macs, Brian’s audio equipment and my jewelry box behind out of goodwill.

I also feel lucky, though. It was a blessing in disguise that we’re still nowhere close to being completely settled in this house, because there were some choice stealables still tucked away in boxes and in other places I don’t think the robber even saw. I was lucky he decided to flee instead of waiting for me to come into the house and harming me. More than anything I’m lucky that in the almost two decades I’ve lived in this city, this is only the second time I’ve been victimized (other than the time my car stereo got jacked, and I ended up getting a better one out of that fiasco – thanks State Farm!).

I still love our new house, our neighborhood and this city. But you bet your ass the Brinks man will be here first thing Monday morning.

PS: Thanks to all my buddies on Twitter for the concern and support.

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