growing up

P.’s truck was broken into yesterday when he was at the gym. It was the middle of the afternoon in a crowded parking lot, and the gym manager thinks the surveillance camera got the guys on tape. The police said not to expect to hear anything, though. All they took was the Comcast HD DVR/receiver that P. was bringing back for service. Maybe they thought it was some fancy DVD player or that they could get money for it on the street, but not only was it defective, the cable company deactivated it as soon as we reported it stolen. So, good luck to the thieves.

It was a quick smash and grab, so I suppose it could have been worse, since they didn’t take the time to look in the center compartment and thusly, didn’t find P.’s wallet. I wouldn’t say he was lucky or anything, because how lucky is it to have your truck broken into in the first place?

He was pissed when he called me. Obviously. I called the cable company and then picked up a new receiver. Did you know those things cost $700? Either did we. Another sucky thing is that if we file an insurance claim, we have to file one with the car insurance for the window and another with the homeowner’s insurance for the theft. Which means two $500 deductibles. Plus, potentially two raised insurance rates. It sucks all around.

At first I thought P. was just upset because of the money and the hassle and the glass all over the truck, but just before he got home from work last night, I remembered how I felt when my car was broken into. I felt violated, vulnerable. At risk. You always know that these things can happen, but you don’t really think they will. Not that that you think you are invincible and nothing can happen to you. You lock your doors and try not to walk down dark alleys alone and all of that. But you don’t actively think about it all the time. You don’t spend your days paranoid and suspicious. Once something like this happens, you can’t help it for a while, I think. You realize this could happen any time. You can lock your truck and park it in a busy parking lot in the middle of the day in a generally crime-free part of town, and someone can still come by and smash your windows in.

So, I wondered if P. would be feeling like that.

When he got home, he was quiet. If it had been me, I would probably cry. But he’s not the type to cry. Sometimes it helps, to be the crying type. You can at least get through some of your initial frustration. What can you do with that emotion if you don’t cry? I guess he could break something, but then all he’d end up with is two broken things. Not much point in that.

He wanted to try and park the truck in the garage, but we soon found that it’s too long. Which was just one more frustration on top of the rest. We went to Home Depot and that’s when I realized he really was a little freaked out. He asked if maybe we should get deadbolts for all of the exterior doors. The doors right now just have regular locks, no deadbolts. So, we loaded up on deadbolts and bigger drill bits so we could make new holes in the doors. He installed the one on the front door last night, although I don’t know how much safer it made him feel.

The other thing I was thinking about was how this didn’t really upset me all that much. I mostly thought, well that sucks, I guess we’ll have to pay and move on. When I was younger, I would have been bothered by it a lot more. Sure, part of it is that I didn’t have as much money back then. Not that $700 plus how ever much the window is going to cost doesn’t seem like a lot of money now or anything, but I remember a time when $700 was more than I made in a month. Before taxes.

But mostly it’s that I’ve been through this before, and worse. And I know that we have savings to cover it. I guess this is what savings is for, really. We like to think that it’s for vacationing in the south of France and getting spa treatments when we’re retired, but really it’s for people breaking into your car and stealing your DVR.

Is this what maturity is? Not the wise experience of years, but simply experiencing these setbacks until they are no longer new and shocking, they are simply life? The beaten down apathy that comes when you realize these things have happened before, will happen again, and there’s nothing you can do so why beat yourself up about it and be more miserable than you have to be? Is that what it means to grow up?

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