I had hoped to start this week off with fun posts about my fabulous trip home. However, life decided to throw me for one heck of a loop in my return to the island.
It all started in Atlanta... at 5AM. I had two stops between Atlanta and Honolulu-- one in Houston and another in Phoenix. The lovely people in Atlanta that boarded the plane before me and the second half of the passengers decided that their belongings were more important than ours. They demonstrated this by bringing ridiculously big carry-on items that took up all of the room in the overhead bins, leaving none for those of us unfortunate enough to be called a bit later on for seating. I found a space just big enough for my carry-on bag that held my cameras and laptop, placed my bag in the bin, checked to make sure it would close, and took my seat. A few moments later I noticed another passenger move my bag over to try and squeeze theirs in. This, in turn, made my bag stick out. Before I could get up to fix it, I saw a flight attendant hauling my bag down the aisle and toward the door. A moment later I was contacted and told that my bag was checked all the way to Honolulu... with no questions asked about whether or not I needed anything in the bag for the 13 hours I had left on my journey. The doors closed, and all I could do was hope that the bag with my priceless possessions holding videos and photos from my trip along with the charger for my dying phone would make it to Honolulu.
Fast forward to the next flight out of Houston. I barely made it on time thanks to the kind people with oversized bags in Atlanta who delayed that flight's departure. Still, I tried to remain optimistic.
The next and final flight was out of Phoenix. The stupid airport in Phoenix. After landing in one terminal, I had to leave the building, catch a bus to another terminal, and go through security all over again. Oh so much fun... Still, however, I tried to remain optimistic. Surely things would be better when I just landed in Honolulu.
I touch down in Honolulu earlier than expected, I make my way to baggage claim, and I wait. And I wait. And I wait. For 45 minutes we all stood there waiting for bags that in the past have beat me to baggage claim. Finally, bags start popping out. I get the bag I checked originally, and I wait. And I wait. And I wait. Then I realize the carry-on that had to be checked isn't coming, so I head to the counter for help. Soon I find out that for some reason it was sent to Kona on the Big Island. After telling them how badly I needed the bag as soon as possible, they promised to call me when it came back later in the afternoon. I was angry, my phone was dying, but I went to find my ride.
I was overjoyed to see "my boys," but it was overshadowed by my rotten luck of the day.
Little did I know it was about to hit the rotten rock bottom.
When I get home, I unlock my front door to find the closet door ajar. Then, I notice my sliding glass door is open and my papasan cushion on the lanai is thrown on the floor. As I continue to look around-- in fury by this point-- I see every drawer in my house is open and has been rifled through. Upstairs every door is open, and more drawers left half open. Then, I notice one little travel jewelry box is gone. It held mostly costume jewelry, but it also held an opal and diamond ring that my mom gave me for my 16th birthday. It is irreplaceable,and the sentimental value far outweighs the monetary value. That was when I just lost it. I sat down and cried a moment, then I called Kent. He reminded me that I should call the police. When I did that, I had to sit and wait for quite a little while before they arrived.
It's strange. I never thought I would feel so violated just from someone breaking into my home, but I do. Just knowing that someone came in, uninvited, and ran their hands through my things picking and choosing what they wanted makes my skin crawl. And it kind of hurts my feelings.
The police came, and so did some wonderful people that Kent works with. I had fully prepared myself to deal with all that had to be done with the police report, calling maintenance, and straightening up alone, but I didn't have to. Even before the police arrived, some guys from Kent's work showed up to help me remember what I wouldn't and think of the things I forgot. They even found a phone charger for me since mine was in my "lost" bag. Wives called to check on me and see what I needed, and even though I said I was fine, a couple of good friends came and brought me dinner, ate with me, sat with me while my windows and doors were fixed, walked my dogs with me, and stayed so I could feel safe taking a shower. My sweet neighbor even brought me milk and cookies (because we all know they can make everything feel better!). I seriously couldn't ask for more support in such a yucky situation. Even though I'm away from my blood family, it felt good that a family based on a brotherhood and sisterhood of sorts formed when I needed it.
I did finally get my missing bag back, and all in it was accounted for, but the uneasy feeling I have from the break in is probably going to linger for a while. I am pretty certain whoever did it simply saw an opportunity in a vacant house, but I still can't feel completely comfortable again.
Anyhoo... Just needed to share that story to get it off my chest and feel a little peace of mind from looking at the whole situation. Hopefully, I can get a decent night's sleep since I've been up for over 24 hours straight. For now I'm off to snuggle with Duke, who will alert me at the smallest sound, and try to fall back into some sort of routine tomorrow.