Love That Red

Everything You Need to Know

The Night I Reported A ‘Break & Enter’

The Offending Perpetrator

I swear some things happen to me JUST so I can write about it….

So last night I arrived home from work at about 6:30pm (yuck PB and at work 😦 ) and it should also be noted I had been away for the weekend. Upon arrival I dumped weekend crap at door and quickly crouched onto my lounge room floor with no regard or even a fleeting hello the back rooms of the apartment.

After replying to crucial emails I scooted into my room to collect clean pj’s for my warmmmm shower. All set for a night of toenail painting, Private Practice S4 and face masks. Upon arrival into said bathroom I noticed that many of my precious ‘bath’ prodz (aka body washes, scrubs, masks, oils, cleansers, etc) were littered upon the floor instead of the usual (slightly anal) positions on the windowsill.


I put them back thinking the BF must’ve knocked them but was quite miffed as he is usually such a clean/neat freak.

I then ventured back into my bedroom to get something and THEN noticed that there was also a magnitude of products littered about the floor, perfumes/creams knocked over and spilled 😦 and the pictures/candles/condoms (I joke I joke) that sit on the bedroom windowsill all carelessly thrust all over.

AND THEN I finally saw the huge blood stains on my pristine white bed cover. And no not period or stubbed toe blood stains, actual underbelly-esque stab stains.

Oh and the blood was also dropped on the carpet ALL over.  Confused I left an angry message on bf’s phone abusing him for ruining my ‘things’.

But then I went into the kitchen and saw more bloodstains all over the floor and benches etc….whhhhhatttttt!

My observational skills were clearly that of a man considering it was about 7:15 at this point. 45 minutes of complete ignorance in a chaotic apartment.

Here comes the overactive imagination. *Cue the inner monologue…

“OMG. OMG. WTF. WTF. Is there like some crazy drugged up junkie hiding in second bedroom or EEK under my bed or NOOOOOO in amongst my precious clothes?? Ahhhhh ok next step is crouch in kitchen with egg beater as weapon (hey there was nothing else) and call dad…”

Dad’s advice, “Mitch (flatmate) there? Maybe he had a party?” Me “ Um well unless it was a blood party in my bed ….”

Besides he is away on hols.

Next step was to call the bf and find out if HE knew anything. Nada. His advice was ‘not to worry’ HA if he had seen the state of the apartment I guarantee he would have leapt of the balcony in anti-clean horror. Not to worry my ass.

So under both of their advice (I was terrified at this point) I called the police.

I then (under the emergency ladies instructions) waited outside the apartment thinking ‘oh well might get to the next stage of angry birds’ but no joke about 2 minutes later 10 yes 10 police officers stormed up the stairs, guns wielding, torches branded and authority voices on. At this point I was wondering if I had perhaps sounded just slightly more urgent than necessary on the phone. I mean really, I called Dad, BF AND the cops inside. If there was a perpetrator in there I THINK he would have come out brandishing his weapon of choice. Nevertheless I felt very safe (yet VERY self-conscious) as I let 10 (4 of which were jaw-dropping hottie calibre) into my messy place.

They hunted and searched to no avail but did note the open balcony door and blood on a pipe someone could of used to scale up. I then had a search to check no valuables were stolen. (3 seconds later…) yep stuff seems to be here….

Hmmm it was a mystery.

And the fact that there was no need to shoot anyone meant that 7 officers left (and I totes saw one of them rolling their eyes) leaving 3 others hunting around (thank f they seemed to miss the bowl of illicit substances sitting on a certain flatmates dresser. Idiot. You just never know when you will have a uniformed inspection duffer.) 

I then noticed the claw marks, spit marks and blood droplets all over the windows, benches and through my OPEN (silly girl) beauty draws… 😦

Oh and the poo all over the couch and floor. Some of which I had been perched in earlier answering bloody emails.

So they then noted the open window in said flatmates room. With no fly screen. That sits next to a possum filled tree.

Go figure.

Shamefaced I waved goodbye to the lovely dears who told me I was sensible and did the right thing.

They then proceeded to tell me that said bloody possums may still be lurking in apartment and that they are vicious. They did say they would gladly come back to get any out if needed and also asked (for job deets I’m sure) if one flatmate happened to be a boyfriend.

As a result from my ‘ordeal’ I am still huddled on a tall chair with egg beater writing this at 1am because I can’t sleep due to fear of possum suffocation or worse possum creeping up and ripping my skin.

These are the moments when I HATE not having a man around. And I live with 2 of them.


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