1:01 a.m. I've been debating all day about whether or not to write about the events of this day ... pros and cons, pros and cons. It's been an odd, strange day in any event, so what the heck.

We had a break-in and a robbery last night. Nothing too serious, if you measure these things in material goods lost, but something very serious if you measure it in peace of mind lost. And yes, our front and back gates weren't locked, and yes, they most certainly are, now.

The entire street was hit, if that's any small consolation. The police and detectives were pretty busy today, and there's car window glass all over the street. We made it very easy for him or them, by not locking the car or the glove compartment, in addition to not locking the gates.

So, things were taken and tossed about in the car and things were moved about on the property. A most beloved item, our banana of change, has been absconded, and I am very sad to lose it. It was a small leather banana, with a zipper, and it was given to me by my daughter. We always kept it full of quarters and nickels and dimes for the parking meters.

Once or twice, it bought us burgers. I was faithful about keeping it replenished, and it fit just so in the glove compartment, always there to save us. Now a bad person has it.

More disturbing, or less -- the bad person(s) moved, but didn't steal, my alien gnome. I've moved it inside until the storm passes, thank you very much.

And I hope it passes. I hope it was just a random thing, never to be repeated. I hope I'll stop worrying soon and wondering whether I should talk about it or stay up late anymore. Not talking about it seems weaker than bringing it out into the open, and so I'm taking the stronger stand.

Plus, of course, I always need a topic.

The photo? It's my dream house. No stray passersby, stopping by to wreak. You can see them coming a mile away and if necessary, you can get a good bead on them before they even spot your night light.

The ideal residence; safe, secure. We actually almost bought one once, off the coast of Connecticut. A little pricey, but private. A touch isolated, but you could put your alien gnome on a high rock and know you'd see it again in the morning.

Creeps creeping about, slinking through the shadows, really give me the creeps. And the noisy pit bull next door, the one who goes mad with saliva every time I go out to get the mail? Not a peep out of her last night. Bastards! Coming around where they don't belong.

I'm thinking that an electrified fence might be a fun thing to look into.