It’s now an hour and a half later than when I wrote this morning’s post. I take it into my feeble little noggin to walk up to the nearby Albertson’s grocery store to pick up a few minor necessaries. Right….
Step out the front door and….
ROAR!!!!
Cop helicopter blasts overhead. Circles the neighborhood: round and round he goes, clearly searching for someone.
Someone you may be sure we do not want to get to know…
Back into the house. Lock the doors behind me. Double-check that all the other doors and windows are locked.
See why I find myself thinking, almost obsessively, about moving someplace else?
Ugh!
I really do begin to think that if I’m going to stay in a single-family home, I need to move down into my son’s neighborhood. Houses there are within walking distance of the beloved AJ’s overpriced market, plus a nearby aged shopping center hosts a large Fry’s supermarket.
Hafta say that I no longer feel safe in Phoenix.
O’course, I never did: you’d be a fool to think all was hunky and dorey in this place, wherever you live & whatever the time of day. But these days I do feel more uncomfortable than I used to.
I never used to feel unsafe inside my home, in broad daylight.
And that’s telling me it may be time to move.
But move where?
- My son’s neighborhood? Frankly, it’s no safer there than here…in fact, it’s probably less safe.
- Fountain Hills, whither my cousin betook herself? Very nice, very toney…but wayyyy too far from where my son lives.
- Tempe, suburban home of Arizona State University? Meh! It’s about as bland as you can get. Does have, as one of its advantages, easy proximity to the many cultural activities at the university campus. But…how likely am I to take advantage of those things?
- South Scottsdale, where my best friend and her husband lived for awhile after they returned to the Valley from an excursion in the Virgin Islands? No better than Tempe in the Meh! department.
- Into an old-folkerie? The Beatitudes and Orangewood retirement “homes” await. Problem: I hate, loathe, and despise institutional living. And I’m not anxious to wind up my life in one of those places.
I can’t say that I exactly feel unsafe, here in the Hood. It feels more like…nuisanceferizing.
Yeah: one damnfool nuisance after another.
The cop flyovers are nuisances. No, I don’t feel at risk. But I do feel that I have to get up, close and lock all the exterior doors, and check the windows to be sure they’re secured shut.
Do I want to do without the cop flyovers? Hell, no! Those cops are all we have between us and a legion of sh!theads.
But…how wise is it, really, to stay here much longer?