Some People Suck

While I was in Denver, some people broke into my apartment and robbed me. I found out en route to the airport to come home. It was a shock. My sense of safety was violated. I was very sad to lose the things that had sentimental value; things I can never replace. It took me several days to feel "normal" again.

D and I visited pawn shops to try to find my stuff, but the officer involved said that stuff like mine was probably just sold on the street. I've been joking that it's my contribution to the poor in Cleveland. I think about these (kids, most likely) that did this and that their world views are so impossibly separate from mine. I'm just some "rich" chick in a toney suburb to them. My life, my memories, my things, my sense of safety is of no import to them. Maybe their own lives have no import to them.

A few days after coming home, I went to the beach of Lake Erie for some natural solice. I drove the forty minutes to Mentor Headlands State Park, and crossed the wide, hot, white beach to set down my beach chair. I sighed and sat down, listening to the roar of the waves. No one was in the water. There was an announcement that the waves were too dangerous and that the lake was "closed" until further notice.

Some people suck.