In the Ring

As I mentioned, one of the decluttering chores I did yesterday was to install the Ring doorbell I received for Christmas. For the last 10 months it's been languishing in its box as I wrestled with whether or not to keep it. For while I am kind of interested to catch a glimpse of the fox and deer that are rumored to pass by here, I liked the doorbell we already had, and I wasn't sure if the time and hassle of installing the ring would be worth it. So, the box just became one of those things that got moved when it was time to tidy up-- from the side board to the desk to the sideboard again, always placed somewhere that I would see it so I wouldn't forget about it and find it 15 years later. (I'm talking to you evaporated milk!)

Yesterday I made up my mind and reclaimed that 72 cubic inches of real estate. The installation, while not the snap they portrayed it to be in the directions, was not as complicated as I feared, and within 45 minutes my Ring was ringing and recording and reporting it all to the app on my phone and watch. 

No doubt the novelty will wear off, but every couple of hours I feel the need to check the footage and see who's been passing by. And while there has been no wild life, I have found cause for alarm. 

"Who are these sketchy guys lurking in the courtyard at 12:34 at night?" I asked Heidi, indignantly thrusting the phone over to her. 

"Um, isn't that our next door neighbor and the guy who's been staying with them?"

"Oh, yeah," I agreed, "that is them. But look at this! They delivered the paper at 3:11 AM! Why so early?"

"So it will be here when you get up?"

"Fine! but who's this guy in slides and bath robe?"

That stumped her for a minute. "Is he smoking?" she asked, squinting at the tiny screen.

I looked, too. "I think so."

"He's the other neighbor, all the way at the end. He must have gotten up and gone out for a smoke."

But mostly, the camera just captures us: me running out in the rain to rescue the pumpkins and the Halloween decorations, Heidi taking Lucy out, me locking the door before we go walking, us carrying groceries up from the car, mundane actions somehow elevated by the simple fact of their recording.