Saturday, September 15, 2018
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
Last week Ian and I were headed to our friend's housewarming party in Bronzeville when I got a call from our alarm company. Our alarm was going off, they said, and they had an indication of a glass break. This was literally the first time they've ever called me when I haven't just (1) accidentally set off the alarm myself or (2) forgotten to update the expiration date on the credit card that's on file with them, so we took it pretty seriously. We turned around and headed home, and the alarm company called the police to meet us.
When we got there, the police said they had checked the doors and windows and didn't see any sign of a break-in, but I figured these could be really skillful cat burglars, like in the Ocean's franchise, so I asked them to stick around while we checked out the house. They were happy to do this, probably because it meant less time they had to deal with actual crime, which is likely kind of a drag. Ian and I swept the whole house (I even checked the shoe closet) and did not see anything suspicious.
Other than the trash can in the kitchen, that is, which our four-legged friend had apparently tipped over in search of delicious food trash. Apparently, the "glass break" detector isn't actually something on the glass, but a microphone set to detect noise on the frequency and volume of a glass break. So went sent the friendly constables on their way and sat down for a long talk with Aubrey about why she doesn't find the Hallmark Channel sufficiently diverting to keep her from dumpster diving. (I assumed it would be that she finds Danica McKellar offputting, but it turns out that's just me.) And the next day we went to Target to buy a baby gate we can use to prevent future trash expeditions. Clearly, we are living our best lives.
Last week Ian and I were headed to our friend's housewarming party in Bronzeville when I got a call from our alarm company. Our alarm was going off, they said, and they had an indication of a glass break. This was literally the first time they've ever called me when I haven't just (1) accidentally set off the alarm myself or (2) forgotten to update the expiration date on the credit card that's on file with them, so we took it pretty seriously. We turned around and headed home, and the alarm company called the police to meet us.
When we got there, the police said they had checked the doors and windows and didn't see any sign of a break-in, but I figured these could be really skillful cat burglars, like in the Ocean's franchise, so I asked them to stick around while we checked out the house. They were happy to do this, probably because it meant less time they had to deal with actual crime, which is likely kind of a drag. Ian and I swept the whole house (I even checked the shoe closet) and did not see anything suspicious.
Other than the trash can in the kitchen, that is, which our four-legged friend had apparently tipped over in search of delicious food trash. Apparently, the "glass break" detector isn't actually something on the glass, but a microphone set to detect noise on the frequency and volume of a glass break. So went sent the friendly constables on their way and sat down for a long talk with Aubrey about why she doesn't find the Hallmark Channel sufficiently diverting to keep her from dumpster diving. (I assumed it would be that she finds Danica McKellar offputting, but it turns out that's just me.) And the next day we went to Target to buy a baby gate we can use to prevent future trash expeditions. Clearly, we are living our best lives.
