Let me tell you about my evening. After I got home from work, I fed the cat, then--recalling I had to run out to cat sit--trundled out to the garage. I had to take out trash on the way, meaning that I had to go out into the alley proper. Alas, I discovered to my dismay that my garage had been tagged. (Mine wasn't the only one, I saw as I was driving through the alley. There were about 3 or 4 others.)
I was so pissed that I immediately set to scrubbing it off, in my skirt and high heels. Two dudes came up, though, while I was doing this to tell me that (1) they were next-door neighbors who lived across the alley, (2) that the graffiti had happened a few days ago (no, I don't usually drive, why do you ask?), (3) they had already called the city's vandalism number to take care of it, and (4) dude 1 was a former cop and our block captain. Yay! In addition to which, my kindly newly found neighborhood block caption, after relating how the city's one dude with a power washer was a bit slow, offered to power wash my garage with his own washer tomorrow. Yay, again!
They seemed pretty sure, for some reason, that it was just a single obnoxious kid making a pest of himself. Maybe the dog-walking gives one special insight into the alley goings-on. Whatever. I'm seriously fantasizing about moving to an island somewhere with an agrarian economy.