So this afternoon I left the house for work late, waiting for two very nice men to come drill holes in the doors and walls and put little electrical gizmos throughout the house. Because of the recent spate of breakins around us, Jen and I took the plunge to have an alarm system installed. After having put it off after the first incident, we decided that twice was too much. We didn’t go crazy with all the bells and whistles, because the shark-filled moat, hunter-killer robots and tear gas dispensers were all expensive. (Prospective thieves, beware: we did have the electrified dartguns installed, and they’re aimed at belt-buckle height.) The keypad is nice, the units are small and unobtrusive, and the siren is loud enough to peel paint from the walls. At some point I’m going to have to replace our basement windows, which date to the house’s construction, with thicker, modern versions, or glass-block. I’m going to have to beef up the physical security around our first-floor windows, and reinforce the doors, and do lots of other things I don’t want to have to do. I told Jen a long time ago that living in a house where you need bars on the windows is not living, and I refuse to do that. I guess I’m just pissed that we need to have this in our house at all—not that it’s any better anywhere else—but if people would just keep away from our stuff, and take care of their own stuff, none of this would be necessary.