I’m not entirely sure how to start this post except to say that I am beyond frustrated.

Back in August I went traveling for two weeks.  I left my GPS and my car charger in my middle console of my car.  When I got home, they were both missing.  The only conclusion I came to was that I had accidentally left the car unlocked and sometime during that two weeks somebody noticed and stole my stuff. 

That time I chalked it up to carelessness.  I thought I had brought my electronics in to the house, but apparently had thought about doing it and forgotten.  I also thought I had locked my car door, but again was mistaken.  Lesson learned.  I replaced the GPS and Mike bought me a new car charger a few weeks later.  I lock the door every time I get out of the car, and double check the doors when walk away asking myself if I locked them or not.

Friday night Mike and I went out for a little while.  We took my car, but he drove.  When we got back to the house I locked the passenger door but didn’t check the driver door (and because I don’t have a remote lock I always check the doors before I go inside.  Silly me).  Yesterday afternoon we left the house for a few hours to pick up some things for a Christmas party last night and took his car. When we got back, my driver side door was open.  My new GPS and car charger were both gone.  All the other stuff in my car was thrown everywhere.

Needless to say, I was pissed.  Then Michael confesses to not having locked the door when he got out of the car the night before.  His excuse: he didn’t think of it because he has a remote lock.  I cannot express to you what I felt because of the whirlwind I was experiencing, but it included: hurt, anger, confusion, and betrayal.

Mostly I’m trying to figure out how this could happen to me, twice in four months, in front of my own home.  I’m also trying to figure out why they wouldn’t also take the stereo (or just the whole goddamn car while they’re at it).  I’m also now slightly paranoid that it’s one of the neighbors (because it doesn’t make sense if it was anybody else, they had to have known I wasn’t home).

If you’ve never been to the Woodlands, let me give you an overview.  100,000 rich mother fuckers who can basically afford whatever they want.  It’s a big spread out city, but it’s quiet and people mind their own business.  I’ve heard being a high schooler around here can be rough and a lot of the kids are into drugs, but all that I hear second-hand from adults.  There also are not many teens in my neighborhood.
If you’ve never met my car Cricket, let me tell you about her.  She’s a 2000 green dodge neon with a little bit of rust from living in the north and a giant scrape in her rear bumper from a mishap with a shopping cart when I worked at Country Market.  She has two sticky locks, an immobile sunroof, and a slow oil leak.  Why anybody would care to break into her is beyond me, because she’s obviously the car of a broke somebody who can afford low-grade maintenance to an old car but not payments for a new one.

Now I feel like I can never let anybody else drive my car again, and I’m going to have to make sure I bring everything inside when I get out of my car.  I also feel like I should bring in all the important paperwork (payment receipts, maintenance slips, etc) in the house because Lord knows what kind of information these douches could have stolen.

Needless to say I was upset, and spent the rest of the day with every door in the house locked as well.  Mike spent the next 12 hours apologizing and moping around the house because I was in a sour mood.  Why can’t I feel safe in my own home?