So I had both the fortune and misfortune of being born to two people at the exact center of the bell curve in Most demographic respects— they are white, able-bodied cishet suburbanites— who happen to have a good bit more money than is sensible. This has made them deranged in several very predictable rich people ways— they identify themselves as "Upper Middle Class", they are cheap about dumb shit like buying in bulk and then continuing to eat that food once it expires rather than throwing it out, my father thinks insurance is a scam to steal your money, etc.
So when my husband and I decided to move to the city— specifically to a city with a high Black population, bc that sure isnt irrelevant — my parents became very concerned about Crime. My father got very worried when we asked for the bars that blocked fire escape routes to be removed and gave us several cans of mace that we have given a place of honor still wrapped at the bottom of a shelf somewhere. After the move I got asked a lot of questions about if I was hearing Strange Noises at night (no, on the record). My father was convinced because there were unoccupied houses on our street that we were going to Die.
So all of this primes me for today, when my husband tells me me our grocery delivery is on the porch. I open the door. It is not on the porch. We have a mutual "Well, shit" moment and some confusion because we have a VERY loud dog— my husband had locked the outer door (its a grate) by accident so the delivery guy hadn't been able to knock on the inner door, and so there had not been barking, so it'd taken us half an hour to get out there. I go Well, Shit, lesson learned. Here there be porch pirates. I guess this is what city living is like. I go to shower.
No sooner have I stripped and gone down to get a towel then there is a knock on the door. Dog loses it. I throw on a robe and get the door. It is our neighbor, who was told by another neighbor that we'd left our groceries out, and who'd picked them up to take them inside for us so they didn't get stolen. I pad out there barefoot, in my robe, and he gives me the groceries and as I struggle to get the two bags and keep the robe closed and get the door and keep the dog from running out to make friends and thank him profusely, he's calling "you got it? You need help?"
So, yknow. I guess this is what city living is like. Suburbanites are fucking stupid.