Letters to the Editor
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A question...
Very intriguing story, but I'm missing an important piece of information here...for what purpose was the PI hired to scope out the L.A. family's house? Was she hired by the parents or by the daughter, and what was her assignment? Did the parents know? Was she "under cover"?
Thanks for any enlightenment you can provide...
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Hired to Housesit
They didn't hire her to be a P.I. They hired her to housesit for them.
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Clearer
Janet: Ahhh! Clearer now. Did the homeowners expect her to be "snooping" and to report to the daughter? Or was this a secret between the daughter and the PI?
I've almost got it. *G*
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funny article, and my personal most shocking find
That was funny. I wouldn't let you housesit for me on a bet, but that was funny.
When I was in college, my boyfriend rented a furnished house from a cousin of his who was attending seminary in another state. We had a bunch of stuff which needed stored; he invited us to clean out the attic and hold a yard sale of anything we found there, keeping the money as payment for the work of cleaning out the attic.
Let me restate: he INVITED us to clean out his attic.
I'm guessing he forgot about the giant stack of gay child porn in the attic. Or maybe some strange guilt impulse caused him to set himself up. In any case, there it was... a giant stack of porn mags and paperback books, carefully tied with string, in plain sight, in the middle of the attic. It wasn't "real" child porn, but that "fake" kind with the disclaimer: We swear on our mothers' graves that whatever it may look like, all models are actually 19 or older, please don't arrest us. Still a very disturbing thing to find in the attic of a man attending seminary. I remember one magazine was entitled: "Young Boys in Bondage." This would have been... 1988? Back when porn meant printed material, and before child-molesting priests were all over the news.
My boyfriend discussed bringing it to the attention of his parish priest, but I have no idea if he did or not, since we broke up shortly thereafter.
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Goodwill
I volunteered for a long time at a Goodwill regional sorting center, going through bags of donated books. As you dig down through one of bags, you get a rather clear picture of what the donor had just done through. Bags of books on recovering from divorce, a dump of the old college text books about 3 years after graduation, a whole pile of weight loss and fitness books discarded together, and sets of pregnancy and infant care books (sometimes used, sometimes brand new and unopened).
The saddest, though, was when you could tell survivors were cleaning out the house of a departed person. In many cases, the people donating the books didn't look through or between the books. We would find all sorts of things from bearer bonds, to family history/heirloom items and photos, to legal documents, to surprisingly large amounts of cash. We'd return the things we could match to a name. Otherwise, they'd go toward Goodwill.
These donations made me sad because either the donors were still emotionally overwrought and didn't do a good job sorting or they just didn't care what the deceased person had.
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This article belongs on "This American Life"
No, that's not a compliment.
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A set-up with no payoff
Listen, you know how to tell a story, but to mention a secret room adjoining the bathroom, and not DELIVER on that...what a gyp. What was in the room? Contraband? A couple barcaloungers and a mini-fridge? Old Tupperware containers? WHAT????????
Sure, this was mildly funny, but maybe I've been privy to my husband's wacko family too long...it was seriously anti-climactic.
About that room...
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Safety is Funny
""Did you know that every room in the house has an exit?"
This is actually pretty smart. Building code requires that all bedrooms have an exit directly to the outside - generally a window. But, if you're concerned about safety in the event of fire or earthquake, an exit door sounds pretty thorough.
But, the guy was an engineer. The weird part is how we all apparently love to laugh at people's smart decisions. (That means they're some kind of nerrrrds or geeeeeks or somethin'!! Haw, haw, haw!)
Insert the appropriate caustic reference to Americans electing George (W.) Bush, the Lesser twice.
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I used to live in a town with a factory that made funny hats
But the factory's closed now. That's it.
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Hilarious
It's humor, friends! Our nascent sleuth once found (and reports on) a candy box labeled "Have a Nosh with Mort & Ethel" - so I think she is aiming to entertain us. Worked for me.
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?
Thoroughly useless.
So Lisa has eyes, a brain and a mouth. Right?
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I'm a snoop from way back
When my parents were out of the house, I went through every closet, purse hanging in the closet, drawer, looked under every bed, checked out every video tape and magazine hidden from a kid's view.
My father had an incredibly impressive porn collection. The old school kind, you know, made on 16 mm. He also had a film projector (presumbly to watch porn as well since we didn't have a camera.) He was also fond of written porn. If you've ever read Naked by David Sedaris, and remember the part about the porn novel he found his parent's nightstand (set in Southern California and populated by an overly incestous family) then you know what I'm talking about. When he died, my mom (without my consent mind you) decided to donate those priceless books to my Uncle who could barely read, much less slog through the numerous misprints in one of those books.
As for my mother, I read her journal. Which, is probably one of the worst things I've ever done to her. Luckily, she never found out. I pretty much draw the line at that (and reading anyone's email but for some reason, I have no compunction against reading their snail mail. I still do that, or at least peek at it when I'm at a friends house) but in my early twenties, I did have the tendency to rifle through my coworkers desks and look through their computer files. Now its harder with passwords and all.
I feel guilty about my snoopery, and have, with age, begun to restrain myself. What's stopped me is that I'm a complete hypocrite 'cause the thought of anyone even opening one of my desk drawers fills me with terror and anger. I wonder if the author is the same way; if she loves how clever she is as a spy but can't stand the thought of being spied upon.