The Sycamore Compound

I got a call from Seamus yesterday asking if I wanted the good news or the bad news. I chose "bad" because I always choose "bad" figuring that even if the bad news is devastating I still have something to look forward to.

The bad news was that someone had tried to break into the house.
The good news was that the alarm had scared the robbers off.

We've been robbed once before.

Last October, while we were out at Josiah and Felicia's rehearsal dinner, robbers came in and stole a milk jug full of of quarters, Seamus' guitar, a bunch of DVDs, our playstation and a bunch of unplayed PS games that Helga and Chris had JUST given us. It was a sucky thing to come home to on a Thursday night after a long drive home from West Hills.

Seamus was the one who figured out what all was missing - I never made it past the pillowcase.

Former roommates and ex-boyfriends will attest that I am obsessive about keeping my towels and pillowcases pristine. I travel with a clean pillowcase and will sometimes double bag if I pillow sees particularly likely to harbor mites or mildew. Given my particular crazy person filter, the first and only thing that I noticed out of place was that one of my 1000 thread count pillowcases was missing and the bare pillow was touching the sheets. YICK!

It took me a moment to put together that someone had not recognized the luxurious comfort of my beloved pillowcase, but rather had used it as they might a flour sack or laundry bag to make off with our goods hobo style.

Honestly - if not for the pillowcase, I would never have figured out we were robbed.

If you know me well enough to know the pillow thing, you probably also know that pre-Seamus I have always lived in spaces that looked like they were recently ransacked. Being robbed, having my place tossed for evidence, or being hit by a highly localized tornado are all occurances that frankly would have flown under my radar had the pillowcase not afforded me a CSI moment.

After that night in October, we installed an alarm system. And that was that. $20 bucks a month bought us a high decibel alarm, warning stickers in every window and peace of mind, until yesterday.

Seamus left work immediately in response to the alarm call.
He was home by 5:30 PM.
The police didn't get to the house until 1:45 AM and when they did arrive they made us show ID to prove we weren't the robbers. They then declared that since it was so late we should just come by the next day to file a report.

The robbers didn't get in. They tried the back door, tried to pull the air conditioner out of the bedroom window, and ultimately got the kitchen window open enough to set off the alarm and scare themselves. But, if they were watching to gauge police response time, they would have realized they had over 8 hours. That's enough time to call in a moving truck.

So Seamus is now in "protect the compound" mode. He took the day off work and installed barbed wire and razor wire around the perimeter of the house. It's the equivalent of a club for a car. He's also got plans for a fence and he's going to get together a neighborhood watch.

I'm not as freaked out as I was the last time we were robbed. Last time I felt violated and exposed, but I was also unemployed and spending almost every day alone in the house.

It also makes a huge difference that they never made it in, but I hate the thought that there are opportunistic theives in the neighborhood. I don't think thieves are as excited about my crock pot, ice cream maker or silverware as I am. But frankly, since the wedding we have a lot more stuff I care about.