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Tuesday, October 10, 2006

I'd like to get off now

I'm really getting sick of the "our house got broken into and everything was stolen" ride. Thanks, its been fun, but I need to go back to my safe, secure, still in possession of my belongings world now.

I've just emailed the adjuster to get a copy of HIS spreadsheet with the depreciation/holdback amounts they are applying to all of my possessions. I don't know why, but I'm terrified sitting here. I'm 100% expecting him to come back and say "oh, ya, that tv that you bought less then a yr ago, ya, we're gonna give you $100 for that, and oh, those 183 DVD's you had stolen, um ya, worth $0.26"

I.HATE.THIS. I hate worrying about shit that wasn't my fault. We worked HARD for our belongings and some asshole breaks a window, takes it all and WE have to worry if we'll actually be able to replace it. We have a replacement cost rider on our insurance so technically they have to give us whatever it costs to replace, but if we don't replace it, we have to take the depreciated value.

I hate the worry. The worry about what the insurance is going to say is an actual "replacement value" of our items....Worring each day as I drive home wondering "will the door be open today? Is today the day that they come back?"...WHEN THE FUCK WILL OUR WINDOW BE FIXED?!?!?!?!

DH and I have been watching "It Takes a Theif" lately...Although all we do is yell at the TV "YOUR STUFF IS COMING BACK DUMBASS!!!" and "WELL WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT LEAVING YOUR HOUSE UNLOCKED!!", but mainly "Your stuff is all coming back". Ya, ours isn't, its gone. Our house wasn't open either. All locked up. Nice and tight. I don't leave doors unlocked. EVER. If my hands on a door knob, its locking it.

I'm tired, I'm angry, and my D control has gone to the crapper.


art-sweet said...

This is so awful. I wanted to share a wonderful poem by Barbara Kingsolver that describes that feeling of violation so clearly.

Go to

search inside this book for house, and click on "This House I Cannot Leave"

Anonymous said...

What the hell is this? Do this suppose to be from Barbara Kingsolver?, because that's what I was searching. This is CRAP.