One more, and then I'll stop. It's the last one, anyway...and I hope it really is the last one for all time.
In 1999 I'd lived in this house for five years, and friend Kristi had been there with me for the last two of those years. I had gotten home from work one afternoon, and had been in my room just doing whatever, when I suddenly noticed that the little "jewelry box" thingy on my dresser wasn't there. In denial, my brain at first tried every conceivable rationalization in an attempt to explain why it wasn't where I expected it to be, but I soon had to accept that it had been taken. When Kristi got home she found her stuff rifled through as well. We had the police come out to file a report, and even THEY were surprised, as we walked through the house, to find all of the electronic equipment in my (closed-door) "music room" untouched.
Placing blame where it's due, we suspected that we'd actually left the house unlocked that day. None of the small (but very sentimental) things taken were ever recovered, of course, and none of it would have had any value whatever to a thief. The cop thought one or two clues indicated the culprit was a young female, and it just happened that Kristi's sister had brought a friend (who we didn't know) over with some other people a few days prior, and that friend also just happened to never come around again. Locks were changed, and that was that, but this one was a surprisingly emotional "violated" feeling for the both of us.