My shitty year gets shittier

If it's not apparent in the written form, please take a moment to re-read the title of this blog entry aloud and appreciate its marvellousness. I muttered it to myself a fair few times in about twelve different ways of phrasing it in order to best make it sound clever.

Anyhow. 2015 has been a grind for me, and it seems as though things are getting worse (perhaps as punishment for my lack of blogging?) The rigours and pressures of adult life I alluded to in October of last year have continued to mount - iffin' you're curious, I'm saving up for a wedding at the end of this year, which has completely stripped my lifestyle down to the essentials (read: booze), which was going fine until a few weeks ago, when the unthinkable happened.

While we were out celebrating my fiancée's birthday, someone broke into our apartment and burgled us.

I won't go into much detail because a) I watch too much TV and have convinced myself that it could 'jeopardise the police investigation', b) they stole my laptop and could possibly have access to this blog (in which case I hope they at least make some cool toy-related posts), and c) I reserve the right to track them down and cave their fucking head in, and the less evidence I leave of mens rea, the shorter my jail sentence.

The treachery and hollowness I felt in the apartment afterwards was horrifying: not only did they nab a whole slew of stuff, but there are other things they had picked up and put back into different places. Our home became a veritable buffet: take whatever you like, and feel free to jettison anything you decide isn't worth it. Similar to Eddie Izzard's take on growing bored of your shopping, and starting over again.

The first reason I came to discuss it on this blog is because I initially thought they had swiped my New 3DS, but later found it had been put into a drawer. Which is a huge relief insomuch as insignificant things like my 12 years' worth of Pokémon and the small, fragile animal community of Wiggins are intact (lord knows those fuckers aren't going to pluck those weeds without me), but a perverse reminder that someone invaded my living space, picked up my 3DS for long enough to carry it up the stairs and into a different room, and then decided to leave it behind.

Why do that? If you're going to turf some stolen goods, why would you leave it behind and risk fingerprints and other potential pitfalls (hidden Animal Crossing reference)? Perhaps they were overwhelmed by the sheer amount of choice at their disposal, because my old 3DS and even the original DS had also been moved to another location. It's like, 'shit, this is too much DS for me - let's bail'. Good thing I never bought a DSi, or else they may have well and truly lost their shit. While in the process of taking my shit.

The only things that were taken were items of quantifiable cash value, so all of my little toys and whatnot are still here, including ones I have not yet blogged about. Note to anyone concerned, apparently Gumby figurines are not worth stealing.

As an aside, in our fury and misery, we've done a massive clean out and cleared out some things that have been sitting around for years. Among these was a bag of toys I had prepared for the opp shop. I dropped it off at long last, then headed off to do some other errands. Afterwards, it had occurred to me how some things had been moved to strange places during the burglary, and I hadn't checked the bag to see if anything valuable had ended up in there. So I returned to the opp shop, and there before me, they had laid out the donated toys in a little basket.

The very nature of this blog is derived from some deep-seated issues I have with relinquishing material possessions (as you can appreciate, this made the burglary even harder for me to handle), so having seen the toys laid out, ready for sale, really tugged at my heartstrings in an unexpected way. Prior donated toys have either ended up in the possession of family members and/or my fiancée's classroom, or I have donated them somewhere - and never looked back. Today was the first time I saw the results. It was weird. Much less weird than being fucking burgled, but weird all the same.

Anyhow, that's where I'm at. As I rebuild my psyche and my life in general, I'm likely to return to the queer hobby of toy... describing, which at its base level, is what this blog is about. In the meantime, I'm going to put together some kind of lawsuit against Tonka, because my Pooch Patrol dog didn't do shit to stop this from happening. Fucking hell Sarge, you had twenty-five years to prepare for this!!