When Chris and I arrived home yesterday we noticed that our mail box was open and various unimportant pieces of mail were scattered in front of the door. Just as we suspected.... a mail thief! And one who grossly reminds me of a rat that. A rat with the gaul to choosily only steal the best crumbs and make a mess out of the rest.
For the last few weeks I have been waiting on the arrival of my social security card and an incoming check via mail. I am doubtful that both are lost in transit and am currently blaming our mailbox bandit. His bad behavior has me so put out that I haven't taken much time to allow the seriousness of the situation to fully sink in. However, I think it is safe to assume that my identity has already been compromised and is up for sale on the black market. Joy.
That being said--welcome to my neighborhood--downtown Mesa. Roughly 10,000 illegal immigrants cross the Mexico/US boarder every day and I think that the majority of them end up across the street. Let me make it clear that I don't have issues with Hispanics. Not in the least, but I do have a problem with people who are here illegally. It is frustrating to drive home at the end of the day and wonder if I am still in America because the signage, billboards, and store names all suggest otherwise when I CAN'T READ THEM. It makes me nervous that there is a community of undocumented people living nearby who, by simply being here, have already broken one major law. And as human nature shows: once people get away with one crime, breaking others seems less severe.
The first night Chris and I spent in our new home, we were up until about 2:00 a.m. moving things from the car to the house. About that time, we went outside for one final trip and saw a helicopter with a searchlight circling our neighbor hood. Deciding to investigate, we drove a block down the road and found that the whole area had been blocked off by police cars. The longer we have lived here, the less uncommon these types of occurrences have become. Stay up late enough in downtown Mesa and you will see the same scene: a helicopter circling the nearby area, spotlight on, pursuing the runaway suspect of the day.
In addition to both of these circumstances, we live across the street from a bar (whoot, whoot) and in the last month we have received two sex offender notifications warning us of men who recently moved into the area. Apparently those pieces of mail didn't particularly appeal to our mailbox bandit because both were successfully delivered. And... as we just learned--there is a halfway house located just down the road. Fantastic!
However, we do have to give our sweet little home a minute of recognition. It is a rather charming house for a newlywed couple, and Chris and I feel very blessed to live in number 21. Having our shotgun by the door "just incase" will simply make our first year of marriage that much more memorable.