There's been a series of robberies in my neighborhood recently. Right on my street, in fact. It's a little bit unnerving. The perps have jimmied open doors, and one was found actually in someone's house in the middle of the night. Yikes... that's a pretty bold thief.
I love leaving doors open... so much so, that flies end up in the house, much to my husband's chagrin. My perfect door situation would be two sets of white French doors on a wall adjacent to my backyard. They would be swung open any time it is remotely warm.
Anyway, now I feel like keeping my doors locked all the time, which is a big bummer... I'm not sure if it is better to feel less vulnerable, or to suffocate in the confines of my home while watching the breeze move the branches of my willow tree, yet not being able to breath in the fresh air. Sigh. I feel so incredibly melodramatic right now.
The police are frequenting the area, which makes me feel a bit more secure.
They are actually pretty good about patrolling our street. One night, when Jason was a baby, Patrick was driving around the neighborhood very slowly in the dead of night. In our dark blue van, I might add. He got pulled over for suspicious behavior.
What is your business this time of night, the officer asked, shining his mag light in Patrick's eyes.
I'm just trying to get my baby back to sleep, he answered.
The officer understood... he must have been a dad.
Tell me you have done that out of utter exhaustion... we can't be the only ones!
Oh, and would you leave the door open or lock it up tight?