When you’re up, you’re up. And when you’re down, you’re down.

I was really looking forward to getting back to Danville, making plans to pick up my mother-in-law to take her back up to Falls Church with us for a little while, and eager to spend some time in the pool and with my friends and family.  My good mood was ruined, however, as I scanned an email from my neighbor while at a stop light on the drive down.  She was curious about the party that we let our contractor, Warren, throw at our house the day before, and wondered why we would allow him to have so many people in our house that we didn’t even know.  Sure, he cleaned up after himself, she wrote. The four large black trash bags were hauled away by the garbage truck this morning, but it just seemed out of character for us to allow such a party.  Okay, so if you’re smart, you’ve figured out by now that we had authorized no such party, and I was steaming by the time we arrived in Danville.

After unloading the car, I went to check the security cameras while Tom penned an email to Warren.  The security cameras give us a broad view of what is happening in our home, and with cameras inside and outside, I can follow a person as they approach, enter, and move about our house.  To be sure, I had not been checking the cameras remotely lately, as there had not been any contractor activity in the house for some months now as we were focusing all of our resources across the street on #841 (a story for a later time).  So most of the work being done, we were doing ourselves. I hadn’t thought to monitor the goings-on in the house, as Warren was only working a few hours each week now, and no-one else had access to the house. If anyone forced their way in, the security system would alert the police.

The story that the cameras told was dismaying, as I watched families arrive at my house, punch in my door code and enter by themselves,.  Their children required no direction, but went running in exactly the right direction to find the bathroom to change into their bathing suits, then along out back to the pool where the party was gaining in momentum.  People wandered about my kitchen, opening my refrigerator and drinking my expensive craft beer.  They opened a bottle of my wine, and helped themselves to my supplies.

I watched as these perfect strangers made themselves at home, in my home, and was even more disturbed at how comfortable they seemed — almost as though it were a familiar place to them.  Their children also seemed right at home and the pool was filled with them, while about a dozen adults milled around, drinking my beer, sitting in my outdoor furniture, and occasionally wandering about my house.

Upset beyond speaking, I made my way downstairs, where my husband reported that Warren had responded by email, admitting to having a couple of people at our pool to celebrate the Fourth of July, but that it wouldn’t happen again. Tom emailed him back, acknowledging his Fourth of July party, but that the party we were referring to was the one he had yesterday.  Another response from Warren insisted that it was only himself, his girlfriend and her daughter at the pool, and certainly not inside our house.  When Tom suggested that the neighbors were telling a different story, Warren quickly recanted that there might have been another couple there.  Only after he was informed that we had already reviewed the security camera footage, did he finally confess.

Now, Danville is a small town, and word gets around quickly about such events.  Facebook helps that too. It turns out that the guests and their host conducted themselves so openly and loudly that no-one would have ever guessed that the party was unauthorized.  Neighbors called to say they had heard it, or seen it, or observed people coming and going from my house, thought it was curious, but couldn’t have imagined we had NOT given the green light due to the way they all conducted themselves. The teenage boy next door reported that a girl at his school was telling him about the cool party they attended at the house next door to him. She was shocked when he informed her that it was thrown without our knowledge or permission.

Demoralized by this event, and frustrated, I began to think of what could be done to prevent such an occurrence in the future.  Restoring an old house requires that contractors occasionally be entrusted with a key and a code to the alarm.  Sure, the alarms and cameras are helpful whenever there is an unauthorized invasion of our property — many many chimney swifts over the years have set off the motion detectors, and the occasional insect has climbed into a smoke alarm and set it off, leaving me with the expense of sending a luncheon to the local fire crew the next day.  These systems are comforting to have, to be able to see and hear and know what is going on when we are not there.  To have the ability to know when a contractor shows up, when he leaves, and what he does in your house is great ability. To have your property protected while you are gone is comforting. To understand that you have no way to protect your property against someone you have entrusted with its safekeeping is a dizzying and heartbreaking understanding to arrive at.

That is where I now stand, as I sit here, back in Falls Church again, trying to shake the feeling of betrayal and disgust as I casually look over my emails from the weekend, check my facebook account, and review the security camera footage to make sure that everything was at least okay here in this house while I was away.  My daughter stays here while we’re gone, feeds the cat, and watches movies with a friend or two.  She is good about not allowing anyone into our house that we don’t know, and good about not having people over to get drunk at our house.  At least one person is looking out for our interests. She doesn’t know we installed a camera, but she has always behaved so well.  And, there she is, smiling in the video recording, with her best friend… Hey! Wait just one minute…WHAT! Who the heck is that dude with them, and why are they all drinking my expensive craft beer!!!!