People are decidedly nasty. In general, we’re small-minded and short-sighted and generally a little bit nasty. I’ve been fortunate enough not to surround myself with That Kind, but unfortunately, That Kind is what’s en vogue in our species and they breed faster too.
Last night a friend’s house was broken into and I had the unenviable honour of being first on the scene. It’s possible I interrupted the action and there was a moment when I was likely but a door’s depth away from the people cleaning the place out. It makes me feel furious and not a little bit dirty. Seeing things on the scene disturbed, incautiously moved, picked over and explored. Elements of smash and grab with things knocked over and cables ripped out and elements of something a little more methodical and insidious – like a box of blank checks rifled through and obviously investigated computer desktop.
And so renter’s insurance will come into play, and the cost of this tiny tragedy will be spread amongst thousands of others, and in the greater scheme of things, nothing will have been perpetrated other than a tiny amount of dataloss and a huge feeling of invaded privacy – but I’m so hateful of that invasion. It makes me want to do damage.
All sorts of things awry with the world, I suppose. This just reaches its finger into my friend’s home and it’s infuriating because I’m powerless to do anything that bumble in five minutes early, and about half an hour too late.
