Walking into the house this morning started off the day on the wrong foot, and ended it with me wanting someone's head on a spike.
We'd been 'crackified' -- a term coined, as far as I know, by our neighbors. What this means is that our home was broken into and used as a crack house for the night.
The first thing I noticed on setting foot in our dining room was the lit candle on the floor. The WOOD floor. Next to all of the paint cans.
At this point in the story I am reminded that things could have been worse. They could have burned the house back to brick and undone nine months worth of work. As it stands, we blew out the candle and proceeded into the kitchen, and then into the living room, where our back door was wide open and we found glass all over the floor from where the villains broke a window to climb in.
So they didn't burn down the house, but they did steal our tools. Out in the back yard I found a bundle of 12-2 wire that they apparently dropped on their way out. They were also thinking of stealing our ladder, but must've found it too burdensome, because they left it in the middle of the living room.
They also stole our stereo & speakers... and my CD collection. That's what really chews on me. They'll turn around and try to sell all of those CDs for a quarter a piece.
I'll tell you what, you miserable bastages, you come back to my house tonight with my tools, my stereo and my CDs and I promise to not hunt you down like a diseased animal.
I'll made it quick. You see, I have this spike....