I woke up to two phone calls (one cell, one land) [[neither of which I answered, both of which left messages]]. When I got around to listening things (Took about five minutes to convince myself I needed to listen to them, though I didn't want to), I found out that the rental insurance folks, or someone they subcontract to, works on a sunday evening. All calls were from them, including one message on the land machine from friday. So they _did_ call ((they were supposed to call me thursday or friday; hmm.)).
Talking with the person, it looks like a) I'm not on the policy and b) so none of my shit is covered.
I feel down and kicked. And kicked and down. Maybe now the theft is hitting harder, when my shock has already worn off? In the first state of shock, I didn't realize all at once what had been stolen, then didn't realize how much it was all worth [[retail ~ $1900 !?]], and by the time I did I already had this imagined safety net of renter's insurance. Everything was pushed away.
It's just money. And memory. And all those sorts of things. But I'd already been imagining where the, say, grand in recompense was going to go. Fucking chickens and their fucking not hatching.
I'm not dealing with this well, and dev.imaginaries.org is blurring to my eyes and fingers; I've been there all fucking weekend. Kinda hard to believe.
If only tears made things all better. :) La.
I can't believe how much this is bothering me right now.