Pistol Annies, Part Deux

The bent patio security bar, after it 
had been removed and tossed in the 
maintenance man's truck. We didn't 
think to get a picture of it still on the 
door, unfortunately.
Continued from Pistol Annies... 
A policeman arrived and took my statement, checked out the patio door, and scribbled down my CAD / PD # for insurance and such. The Crime Tech only checked the outside. Apparently, nothing inside warranted fingerprinting.
Amy came home from work, and I proceeded to call my car insurance (liability only, so no $ or replacement vehicle. suck), Dish Network (That $200 receiver I'm in the process of returning to you? Yeah, stolen), and renter's insurance (Okay, ma'am. Now, you just have to prove that you owned those things, prove how much they're worth, and prove that they've been stolen. Easy as that). 
An hour later, my brain was fried.
We headed out the apartment office to report everything and get some paperwork. On the way, I walked through my [now] empty parking spot and almost tripped over something in a puddle. A wire coat hanger, bent out of shape, with the top hook straightened out. I've never broken into a car before, but my first instinct would be the ol' coat-hanger-trick. Curious, no?
The office was semi-helpful, giving me copies of paperwork I already had and doing a great job of being shocked and supportive. They sent someone immediately to change our locks and fix the patio door.
When he finished the locks and handed us our new keys, we headed to the grocery store. We decided to hunker down for the long haul (four boxes of donut holes and a giant bottle of sweet red wine).
When we got home, I started to unlock the door, but our key wouldn't turn in the handle. 
 So, world, anyone can get into this apartment, it seems, except those who have keys to it.
We headed back to the office, which was locked. But then they invited us in through the other door (which is usually the locked one). Let's just say: Locks - 200, Sarah & Amy - 0.
The man came back to apartment, fixed the doorknob, and off he went.
We finished putting all the groceries away, and I realized I left the soda in the car. So I got  out to Amy's car (parked in our spot, the very spot my was stolen from) and our neighbors pulled in.
Dude was driving, and two passengers. The girls started to get out, and asked, "Why you not openin' yo door? Why you not gettin' out?" But the man refused to get out of his vehicle. He refused to get out of the vehicle until I was back inside our apartment, with the door closed. I know because I peeked back out the peephole. Hmmm. Any guesses as to why my shady, potentially-drug-dealing neighbor dude didn't want to face me the day after my car got stolen from right outside our front doors? Again, curious, no?
   Now, it's a matter of finding a way to put together the paper trail that proves I owned [and lost] all of the things I claimed to have lost [and their value], and submitting it to insurance.
   A detective called this morning, and got the serial numbers for the Wii and Dish Receiver, in case someone tries to pawn them.
   My car is leaking coolant by the gallons, so my prediction is it ends up on the side of the road before the weekend is up.
   And my neighbors are still shady as f....

Sarah :: Plucky in Love

Sarah, aka "Plucky", blogs on the reg, unless she's on vacation or there's a Pretty Little Liars marathon or she's mulling over the implications of the phrase "on fleek." She can't live without iced coffee, a portable phone charger, or equal pay. Say hello!

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