Egad! Get up and close that damn back door!
Ruby and I are loafing in the family room…while the kitchen door hangs open.
And while the news is full of reports about the guy who walked in a woman’s door as she was enjoying the beautiful weather around her house, out in a tony suburb…. LUV-leeee!
We live in an upper-middle-class slab of north central Phoenix, where you ought to feel safe and smug and snug. But truth to tell, it’s NOT safe. No part of the Valley of the Sun is safe. Wherever you are, you run a risk of some sh!thead breaking into your home or your car and coming after you.
This, of course, is why we have big dogs and guns.
But y’know…. Doesn’t it strike you that you shouldn’t have to be armed to the teeth to be safe in your own home? You shouldn’t have to board and feed a four-legged alarm system?
Gosh, but I’m tired of this.
Don’t know what can be done about it, other than sealing my house and yard inside an impermeable plastic dome.
But y’know…I don’t recall feeling antsy like this all the time when I was a kid and a teenager. My mother was scared — but she had good reason, having enjoyed the unwelcome attention of some guy who found her alone out on her grandparents’ upstate New York farm. But I’ve never had any such misadventure. So why am I…scared?
Ohhhh well…
Make
My
Day!