We don't live in a high-crime neighborhood, but we do live off the main street down a long, dark driveway, surrounded by eerie woods. Even writing that sentence gave me the creeps. You see, Mr. KK's grandmother used to live here, and on the night of her husband's wake, she was robbed. The lessons here are:
1. never advertise in the newspaper that you will be away from your house for, let's say, a wake or funeral, or even a honeymoon. (and certainly don't post it on a blog!)
2. the world is filled with asshats
I'm a neurotic door-locker, so an alarm for those times that Mr. KK works late or is traveling made sense. Plus, this house was robbed before! What if they're casing the joint again??*
The only issue with having an alarm, is having a dog who likes to jump on furniture and into the new window seat we built for him and set off the motion detectors. The first time we set the alarm, we weren't 10 minutes down the road and the alarm company called us. We pulled an illegal U-ey and headed back home, and begged them to un-dispatch the police.
So obviously there's an issue. So I called the alarm company and requested to have someone come out and see if we could lessen the sensitivity or something like that.
So on Friday at 4pm I watched the nicely-marked XYZ Security van come down our driveway, and smiled as the nice man in the XYZ Security t-shirt came to the door.
"Hello. Do you have picture ID?" I asked him.
He answered with a dramatic and - what I would say utterly exaggerated - sigh, and walked back to his van. He rummaged around for a bit and came back with a badge.
And, in an exasperated tone says to me, "Here it says XYZ Security. That right there is my name. And there's a picture of me." He left a silent, 'Satisfied?' in the air between us.
I replied with a sweet 'thank you' and we got to work.
I felt my request for ID was a legitimate one. After all, I was inviting him in to help me work on the security of my house. Maybe he hijacked the REAL security guy 2 blocks away, looked up my address, and came over to attack me.
Or maybe I watch too much CSI.