I don’t lock my doors. I mean, sure: when I leave the house I do. We didn’t lock the doors in the neighborhood where I grew up, but here on Baxter Street, it just wouldn’t be smart. But when I’m home? Why would I? What am I supposed to be afraid of? I have a friend who lives in an apartment complex with a security entrance, who also locks and deadbolts and chains his apartment door whenever he’s home. It’s sad. (He also watches a lot of TV news… not a coincidence.)
“Home invasion” incidents, where a burglar breaks into someone’s house while they’re sleeping, are pretty uncommon. Why tip-toe around in the dark when you could instead wait for the people who live there to go out, and break in then? The myth of the menacing burglar is mostly just part of the marketing of handguns (and worse) for “home protection”.
The only times I’ve had anyone enter my home while I was there, it was either a drunken mistake, a drunken error in good judgment, or because they’d seen their stray cat sneak in my open-for-ventilation door. But that last one is is a whole ‘nother story.