During my formidable years, as I'm sure I have mentioned, we lived in a house in the country, or, as I often refer to it, in the sticks. It was about 45 minutes to the grocery store, and very little else but dirt, oak trees, and rocks.
Since we lived so far out in the middle of nowhere, we never locked our doors. There just wasn't a need. If someone was coming, the neighbor's dogs went nuts. If we were gone, the neighbors kept an eye on things. They were the kind of neighbors from whom you could borrow a cup of sugar or a stick of butter. And we did. Because the grocery store was 30 minutes away.
Because of this, I tend to trust my neighbors a little too much. Thus far, that's been okay. My garage door gets left open, no one messes with my stuff. During the summer, my front door is open. and...
Wait. This is no longer true.
My purse has been found. Not in the house, but in the neighbor's bushes. Everything was intact except for my video camera and ipod. Since whoever took it didn't bother with the multiple gift cards, credit cards, etc that was in there, I can only assume that it was one of the neighbor kids. This makes me sad. I'm happy that I got the purse back. I am blessed that they didn't steal my identity. But I am hurt that someone would steal from me at all.
And so, I learned, since they took it right out of my house, to lock the door, even when I am home. And to close the garage door and, for the first time, to distrust my neighbors. Clearly, whoever took my purse knew I had good stuff in there, which means they were keeping an eye on my habits.
I'm just simply not in Kansas anymore.