Since moving to Sacramento just over a year ago, we’ve seen some pretty wild shenanigans outside our town house on 20th street.  Homeless folks eating ice cream on our front porch like they own the place, double car break ins (and there was nothing to steal but vitamins), a New Year’s Eve brawl behind our garage that ended in pepper spray and police, freshly planted flowers clipped off at the base…the incidents are endless.

One night last fall we were waiting for Uber when two folks walked up to our patio, plugged in some kind of torch, and started trying to warm up a plastic to-go of mac and cheese. We didn’t even engage and left them work their magic. We have to keep the water spicket under lock and key, and after 3 hoses disappeared in one week, I had to start taking the hose inside after each time I water what’s left of my ravaged flower beds.

But then there’s “Pooch” the mayor of our neighborhood who calls every time we leave the garage door open or have a package in the front. Gina down the street brought me eggs a few weeks ago when I was sure every chicken within 50 miles of Sacramento was on strike. Zoe knows I can barely walk a few blocks until I get my knee fixed again, but still checks in on me and asks me to go on a walk with her and her sweet pooch– and doesn’t mind when I throw in the towel after a few blocks to turn around. Mike next door “installed” a soaker hose in my flower beds last week, and Marco, a few blocks down let us “borrow” the crane he rented to get our grill onto the roof. There’s a lot of goodness in between the madness.

This is all to say, it all balances out.

But this week? Sigh. I find not one, but two toasters, plugged into my patio outlet one morning. Now what homeless person is walking around with toasters and a loaf of bread? They broke the lock and case on my outlet, but left me the toasters to sell on E-bay. I guess that’s still generous.  And I guess I’m glad that there are some inventive folks out there who still have proper standards for toast.

And then yesterday, our next-door neighbor caught the same woman on camera (2 nights in a row) digging up his freshly planted Impatiens. Seriously? So, because I’m just crazy enough, I busted out my 1920s floor length fur coat and oversized sunglasses at 10pm last night to watch over their flower bed.

I’m happy to report that there was no theft last night…and just enough folks walked past the patio where I was staked out to know that a crazy person lives at 1700 and shouldn’t be messed with.

If anyone needs a toaster, let me know. I’ve got two extras. And if you live in Sacramento and need a late night watch-woman, I’ve got you covered.

And don’t judge my really bad dye job in this video; those Goldilocks roots are for another post.