I feel like my neighbors have my house staked out waiting for me to foolishly leave mail where they can snatch it. A couple weeks ago, I was working from home, and therefore assumed that it was safe to leave my mail sticking out of the slot waiting for the mailman to come and pick it up. I did this strategically. The mailman comes at approximately 12pm, so, in case he was running a little early, I put my mail in the slot at 11:50am, and then repeatedly went to the window to make sure that his truck was there meaning that he was making the rounds.
With all of the energy I put into this, I could have just gone to the post office, but that means leaving the house, and is really not the point of working from home. Finally, I hadn’t heard any mail coming through the slot and hitting the floor, so I made certain (again) that the truck was still there– it wasn’t. I quickly re-grouped and went take the out-going mail back inside when I heard the distinctive squeak of the metal flap. I ran to the door, but there was no one in sight.
So fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me, fool me three times– I guess I’m just a sucker.
Here is a complete list of the items that the crackheads in my neighborhood have stolen from me:
At least one book, possibly two from the Quality Paperback Book Club (they just keep sending me stuff even though I wrote and canceled my membership)
My course of study form for the URI GSLIS program
Business cards that are of no use to anyone but me.
My wise lawyer friend pointed out that the kind of people who are willing to commit the felony of mail theft are the kind of people who can always find someone willing to pay for what they steal– but honestly. There’s a woman down the street from me who spends each day sitting on her stoop selling old clothes, used shoes, and assorted household knick-knacks. I can’t imagine that she makes any money doing this, but it must be worth her while since she’s putting a lot of time into it. Of course, every time I drive by her, I crane my neck looking for something that might be mine, but never see anything. I imagine my stuff goes fast.
So take the DVDs in their Netflix envelopes and sell them for $2, but my course of study, my business cards? I wish that they would take the stuff, see if it’s worth their while, and when it’s not– just bring it back. I wouldn’t even get mad.