Tis the season

Tis the season for robbery. A quick tally is that Obby's house (the house I live in) has been broken into twice in the past month and this morning my neighbor called to make sure that the truck parked in my driveway wasn't breaking into my house (at the house I own which is empty right now and two miles away) I reassured him that it was probably my property manager showing my house. He updated me on the events of the neighborhood. My neighbor on one side of me had his parents held up at gunpoint as they packed their car at 5am. He had seen someone leaving another house with an arm full of stuff and chased him down the street while calling the cops. He's now poised at the window checking every car that pulls into every driveway. I'm almost reassured that it's not just Obby's house that's being broken into. We're not being targeted specifically, we're just being included in the festivities. I'm not too worried about the house that I own. The shades are up so everyone can see it's empty and they can also see the armed alarm so they wouldn't have time to steal the copper pipes or stove if they wanted to. My home has already been broken into twice over the years so I wasn't too fazed when Obby's house was robbed. I've always been of the mindset that I don't have anything valuable enough to steal and in the end, it can all be replaced anyway. Though I had some panicky moments when I realized I hadn't backed up my latest Devil's Panties book and if the computer was stolen, I'd have about three months of hard work on my hands scanning in all the cartoons again.

Here's the high jinx. Monday morning Obby and I go on an errand and get a phone call from a neighbor saying the front door was kicked in and alarm is going off. We return to find three cop cars and an empty flat screen mount. So we upgrade the security alarm, reinforce all the doors, and make plans for other security measures. When I pack for our christmas trip I do it almost expecting a break in. "Gotta tidy up so we can see if anything is disheveled. Wash the dishes because it won't do to have the police see a messy kitchen." What valuables we didn't have with us were stowed away in their hiding places. Sure enough, monday morning as we have breakfast with my family up north the security company calls Obby and he tells them to send the police. We have an interesting 8 hour drive home discussing further security measures and funny fundraisers. "Level one of fundraiser is to buy another security door. Level two will be dogs with bees in their mouths, level three is sharks with lasers, level four is a shark tank with a request that this level is achieved quickly after level three or else level three will have to be repeated." This time the thief left footprints in the snow and his hat was nocked off as he climbed through the window. They found a boy in the parking lot across the street who had a warrant out for his arrest and who's shoes matched the footprints. I say boy because he's 18. Another boy, also 18, was caught in Atlanta who had killed a couple while trying to rob them in the parking lot of their apartment complex, robbed houses, and raped a woman in the park down the street. Can we start more art and recreation programs in the schools please? Can I go teach some pottery classes or something to keep these kids occupied? The thing about catching a suspect for our house break in though, is that they didn't steel anything this time around. There wasn't anything left to steel after the first break in. Next monday I'm sitting out on my front porch and sharpening my axe.

My frustration is that I can't open the curtains that face the street (about all of them) because the bad guys case our house. Obby got a lock and tied my computer down. We are, literally, tying down our stuff. There's going to be barbed wire, three different kinds of locks, I have to go turn off the security alarm if I want to open a door or window. On one hand, I feel like I'm locking myself in more than locking them out. But when it comes down to it, if I do everything I can to secure the place, then I can stop worrying about what ifs. I've done everything possible. If anything happens, I know that there's nothing that I could have-should have-would have done.

Alright, enough worrying, it's time to get on with my day. There are cartoons to draw, laundry to fold, and three cases of root beer that won't drink themselves.