Monday, May 11, 2009

The neighborhood "copper stopper"

Living right next door to not one, but TWO police officers is both a blessing and a curse. I prefer the blessing part, since having them there makes me infinately more comfortable when David is out of town. I've imagined many a scenario, each ending with my running to the cop's house. Oh! There's a man crawling up my stairs, and I slide down the second floor balcony and run to the cop's house! My house is on fire, and I run to the cop's house! I see a peeping tom, and I run to the cop's house! In my mind's eye, I imagine these cops jumping out of their bedroom in full uniform, pulling Uzi's out of their cop car trunks, and hunting down the assailants. Every time I escape unscathed and they get metals of honor.

None of this ever happens, and this is where the curse part begins. I have yet to get Washington license plates (yes, I know, I know, shame on me. Everyone now say it in chorus. BAD KRISTIN) I bought my car right before moving here, and the Oregon plates expire in 2010. I heard a nasty rumor that I'd have to pay SALES TAX on my Oregon car if I changed the plates too quickly. So I waited, and waited, and waited, now to the point of embarrasment. Every time I drive by the cops house, I cringe, expecting them to quit whatever they are doing to hunt me down. Like they have nothing better to do than to find and arrest minor lawbreakers during their off hours. Instead they smile and nod, and yell out a hearty "hello!"

We live on a long, steep gravel driveway, so taking out the garbage is a pain. One day, David stuck the can in the back seat, and was driving up to the curb without his seatbelt on. When he saw the man cop in his front yard, David scrambled to pull the seatbelt across his lap. The cop just laughed, and waved, and said "hello!" Like "you dummy, I'm NOT WORKING, cops sometimes are OFF DUTY."

Maybe my fantasies about this male-female cop team are completely off base. Maybe if I ran to their house in my pajamas with heart pounding after I'd been robbed, peeped, fired, you name it - maybe they would just smile and say, "hello!"

I love my copper stopper neighbors. Thanks for never pulling me over for my Oregon plates.

5 comments:

Colleen said...

I'm sure they'd rather catch a real crook :) I wouldn't worry too much. Drug trafficking = bad. Wrong license plates = small beans.

If it makes you feel any better... I haven't changed the address on my license yet. I'm still Colleen Horne of "Seattle."

Lisa said...

I remember when I was a very little girl, like 4 years old, that we lived near a little boy and his father, who was a police officer.

Every day, my sister Anne would go to play at his house, and I refused, because I was sure his daddy would arrest me.

I was convinced!

Paula said...

I wonder if it would be worth getting to know them better? Are they a husband and wife patrol team? Do you see them cruising around Bainbridge?

I think *most* cops quit being cops when they are out of uniform.

Kelly said...

Hahahahahahaha!!! This is the BEST!

Travis said...

try living in the same house with a cop for 18 years (as in my father).

PS. I lived in Montana for 2 years and never changed my license or registration from Washington (also, kept voting by absentee using my parents address....I figured Montana TV News was like my version of grad school and I really did still 'live at home' with my parents)