Robbed!

I saw Los Campesinos in concert last night. I've been a fan since Hold On Now, Youngster... and had never seen them despite multiple appearances in Barcelona. I like Gareth Campesino's songwriting, and left the show ready to pontificate discuss the performance. Then, at 1:30 in the morning, I got a call from my roommate.
"We've been robbed!"
I returned home to find this:

 

I'm not the neatest person in the world, but this is excessive even for me. This was a gift left by some visitors earlier in the evening, who also generously gifted us relief from owning computers. They made off with three of them, one belonging to each roommate. (Thanks Elise for the loan!) Considering the two Macs that got taken along with my shitty little laptop, I got off easiest. 

Two cops who looked like teenage girls were on the scene last night, filling out the first report. They concluded that the door had indeed been forced and advised us to go to the station to make a formal deposition. As it was after 2am by this point, we waited until this morning.

Bright and early we headed to the station and after a short wait, were escorted into a back room by a remarkably tall, square-jawed officer. He helpfully recorded our story and printed off a report for us to take to the insurance company.

"What usually happens in cases like these?" my roommate asked.

While maintaining an air of professional positivity, the cop explained to us that while there were different avenues of investigation, it was unlikely that anything would turn up soon, if at all.

"But you never know," he offered. "Maybe a neighbour saw something, like a Moroccan guy with a tattoo."

 Well, here's hoping that our neighbours' xenophobia matches that of the police force, and all dangerous looking foreigners (except this guy) have been duly noted and recorded. Our stuff should be back in no time!