The Woman, Meg (sisterfish) wrote,
The Woman, Meg

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John has a quote, I don't remember where it came from that says (basically) "Thieves do respect property. They merely wish for it to be their property".

I'm tired of thieves respecting my property.

Two weeks ago, John and I got home from a pleasant evening at BWH to discover the car had been broken into. Luckily not much of value was taken, everything could be replaced except for the mirror that goes with the dresser John has of his grandmothers.

In fact, we think there'll be some disappointed thieves if they try to sell the Amiga 500, the Amiga 2000 (without a power supply) or the monitor that doesn't work.

But then this Saturday, John and Gordon, coming over to feed Sophia, while I was out of town, discovered a woman in my back yard, packing up my yard art, apparently to make her own.

Again, luckily, nothing was taken that can't be replaced....a copper and glass revolving sprinkler that looks expensive, but wasn't, and some cheap plastic mardi gras beads. The basket of things she had packed and left when John drove up would have been over $100 worth of things that I couldn't replace.--some were one-of-a-kind gifts, some were trinkets, but they weren't hers to take.

And she left an "opinion" as the police dispatcher called it, on the front door. A scrawled note that I "must have money to burn to buy potting soil/manure cost $10/bag. You need a mom or a grandma."...and then it dissolved into illegible writing. That was eerie. It meant that she'd been here a while.--long enough to see that I have a bag of potting soil on the back patio (which incidently, doesn't cost $10 a bag), write the note, make at least one trip with the sprinkler (it's at least 4 feet high!) and then start collecting pottery--all in broad daylight, on a Saturday afternoon.

I picked Queen Anne, even though it was a little more expensive than some neighborhoods because I liked it. It feels like a small town of its own, nestled on top of a hill in the middle of Seattle. I've always felt safe here, living by myself, walking home from Brian and Christine's late at night, never gave it a second thought.

I don't like feeling uneasy in my own home. I know that it'll pass. The police officer who came out last night agreed that it was probably a totally random act. But I still don't like it.
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