Each Monday my university's paper publishes the weekly crime report, under the headline Police Blotter. Here are synopeses of two of the entries:
- Police responded to a call from some people in an apartment complex who were worried about their next door neighbor, an elderly person. They heard "weird noises" and "a lot of coughing" coming from next door. Turns out the "elderly person" was just singing.
- Police responded to a complaint from a person who reported that his car had been covered in peanut butter. The report did not mention whether it was smooth or chunky.
These two reports were typical. Which brings me to my general premise -- You can live in a place that's safe, or you can live in a place that's exciting. You can't have both. Life in Cache Valley, Utah is kinda dull. On the other hand, if I forget to lock my door when I leave, I don't feel like I have to rush back and lock it.
I've lived in one exciting place: West Los Angeles, and I've visited a great many more. I suppose when one is young and immortal, exciting is better. As one ages and realizes more and more that the end result of life is death, one wants to put that off as long as possible. So, safe becomes more important than exciting.