Someone threw a cinder block through the front window of my house at 1:30 in the morning on St. Patrick’s Day (well, technically, the day after St. Patrick’s Day, when everyone was thoroughly wasted).
Two of my roommates (the ones you know) stumbled back from the bars. The other two were ready for sleep. I was listening to an online lecture, and Katie was going to brush her teeth when we heard a crash. I assumed that someone was a little two tipsy and pulled over the dish drainer (not my problem, I dry my dishes and put them immediately in the cupboard). Katie said it sounded like a window.
So, I went to investigate, thinking that someone was breaking in. Discovered the cinder block and huge glass shards all over the couch. This was extremely dangerous and reckless of whoever did it, not just because they broke a window, but because usually when Jenny (a friend of the roomies) stays over, she spends the night on that couch (where a cinder block was occupying the same space as her stomach and a glass shard the size of my forearm was occupying the same space as her head). And, on St. Patrick’s Day, when lots of people go and get drunk and pass out on unfamiliar couches, the odds were even higher that she would have been there.
Risky risky stuff.