I signed the lease to my apartment on a Monday, and promptly started moving things over. All week, in with loads of stuff and then out and back to the hotel. My plan was to clean it over the weekend and officially be out of the hotel on Sunday night (Monday at the latest). Saturday I went to Target and spent an obscene amount of money on things to turn this empty shell of a house into a home.
I stayed with a friend in Suburbia Saturday night (which I likely will post immediately after this), and headed back to the city Sunday morning. I stopped into the hotel to shower and grab a few more things. Headed back to the casa to meet some friends for a Sunday Funday on the porch. We drank some homebrews, laughed a lot, met some of the new neighbors. Good times. At some point we got hungry and went to the Mediterranean joint down the street. Delightful food, great wine (which we had to bring), and the acquisition of a hookah.
You can guess what happened next....more porch time with said hookah. Invited a couple neighbors over to partake, missed the beginning of the Twins game. Eventually we packed up and it was down to the two of us. We headed to the pub the other way down the street, parked at the bar and watched the Twins. Met a few people that were interested in a game or two of darts (which turned into one because, quite frankly, cocktails were involved).
At some point we stumbled back to my place. I put my pajamas on and as I went to turn out the lights, I noticed a man walking down the sidewalk. Then he turned like he was going to approach my house. I turned off the lights and turned around, thinking nothing of it. A minute or so later, I thought better of it, but when I went back to the front door, he was gone. All is well, I think. I turn again, and he's now walking down the driveway, which is fine, because there's an apartment in the back as well. He's probably just lost or drunk or whatever. So I head to bed.
Trying to fall asleep, I'm unable to. Something isn't right. I mentioned it to my friend when it happened, and he agreed. Just a drunk trying to find his way home. Nothing to worry about. But now, I'm worried. I lay in bed with my eyes wide open, knowing something is wrong, but unsure what to do. Well, in the span of about ten seconds it was clear. I heard an odd noise, almost a thud, but not quite. Then I hear another sound. This time I know exactly what it is. It's me screaming after hearing a window breaking. My friend chased after him for a minute as I'm on the phone with the cops. I'm unsure how I remember my own name, let alone the address.
Then we're on the porch, waiting for the cops to arrive. I can't even speak; my friend does all the speaking for me. "He took off on foot, that way", pointing down the street. The cops drive off, looking for him. Neighbors come home, ask what happened. Story re-told, another cop shows up. This one clearly looks like there are things he'd rather be doing, like watching paint dry while eating a Krispy Kreme. He takes my name, the story (again), my ID.
"That's him!!! That's the guy!!", my friend yells. He looks like he's the guy. He's definitely drunk. He's definitely short. He's definitely not speaking any English. He's cuffed and put in the car. All is well. Except for the broken window, of course. I don't have a drill, or boards or anything, really. So the landlord is called. He has all these things! And he's close! Window somewhat fixed. Me unable to sleep. I still had the hotel room, so we hopped in my friends car and stayed there. And I stayed in bed all day. And night.
Court is at the end of July, though I doubt I'll retain any of this by then. People tell me one of two things - buy a gun (almost typed guy there - though I suppose that would work too), or quit overreacting, it was just a drunk guy that couldn't find his house. I'm landing somewhere in the middle. Monday is my first lesson in the art of Krav Maga. Just try to break into my house again.
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