This afternoon when I was home alone, the doorbell rang. I rushed downstairs, thinking it was the delivery guy with my Amazon shipment, but found a police officer instead. I twenty-one years of living in Japan, this was the first time that a cop has come to my door. I thought at first that something had happened in the neighborhood, but he said he was just making the rounds, keeping track of people. He had a book with all our names and birthdays. And he wanted to know my mother-in-law’s new address and who to call in an emergency. He wanted to know where my husband works and what schools my kids go to. He didn’t ask me where I work, presumably because he thought I was a housewife. Why else would I be home in the middle of the afternoon? But I didn’t mind not telling him. I didn’t really want to divulge all of that other information either, but I did. I suggested he come back in the evening when my husband would be here, but he said an evening visit would be rude. I guess that’s why the farmers are always coming around at 7:30AM.
He reminded me to lock the door when I go out in case of robbers, and also not to leave our bicycles in front of the train station.
On the one hand, it’s nice to know someone is looking out for us. On the other, it’s a little creepy. Big Brother is watching!