I had a crappy guidance counselor...

As most of you know, I've been in another city looking after my mother after a car accident. I've just returned home after seven weeks to attend a doctor's appointment and to pick up more clothing only to find my front door has been kicked in, the frame smashed to pieces, and plaster all over the floor...and a police attendance card sitting on my kitchen table! Nothing is missing that I can see and I'm waiting for the cops to call me back to tell me what the hell happened. Whatever it was, it happened on the 16th.

I don't appear to have been robbed. My 50 inch flat screen TV, my DVR, iPod, tablet, and valuables are all where they should be so I'm baffled. I can't even imagine. Faaaark, on top of everything else I'm now going to have to see if the building insurance will cover the damage (which I hope it does because I don't have any money to pay for it), and I don't have the time to get everything repaired as I have to be back in Canberra tomorrow night. Mum's house move is looming and I have to pack up her entire house! I can't for the life of me understand why my landlord wasn't informed so they could contact me.

I swear I'm cursed. I thought the Winchesters had bad luck but I think I'd give them a run for their money. I think I'm going to cry now.

UPDATE: Apparently there was a very nasty and disturbing smell in the building, and my neighbours, who know I'm ill and who hadn't seen me or my cat in weeks, thought I'd snuffed it inside my apartment and called the cops. The cops broke the door down expecting to find me decomposing in my bed!! They didn't find the source of the smell that was permeating the halls and think maybe a rat died in the crawlspace under the building. My life is one step away from being the plotline of a D grade comedy movie.