Things have been so quiet in my street this week, a passing car is cause for curiosity. So imagine the intrigue when a conga line of four wheel drives and a massive van pulled up on the nature strip this morning.
I suspected a convoy of city panic shoppers had pulled up searching for the local IGA.
Summoning the inner cranky old man, I steamed up the driveway and gestured to the lead vehicle to wind down the window. I was ready to tell them to sod off.
Then the heart skipped a beat.
Dressed in the full ninja gear, the officer in the passenger seat told me gruffly it was a police operation and to go back inside.
I'd been wondering what non-coronavirus stories we could cover today, and one was home delivered. Almost to the front door.
Turns out it was a counter terrorism operation just around the corner, which is pretty unusual in any neighbourhood but especially in this leafy one.
This was probably the biggest thing to happen here since the bushfires threatened to erase the place on January 4, and coronavirus arrived on our shores a few weeks later. To use the word on everyone's lips in 2020, it was unprecedented.
These officers of the law were packed into their vehicles. No social distancing apparent. On the other hand, most were masked and gloved. Did they use hand sanitiser when they searched the premises? Did they keep the 1.5 metres distance from each other and the people in the residence they were raiding? How does policing work in the midst of a pandemic?
And there you have it - a lead for another story next week.
Needless to say, my colleague Jack the retriever slept through the whole drama.
He failed to notice the convoy and neglected to warn me of the TV reporter traipsing over the neighbours' lawn to get the shocked vox pop: "Nothing like this ever happens around here." You know the drill.
It was James Wilson, from Nine News, who, recognising me, bounded up with outstretched hand. "Woah, James, no handshake!" He's still getting used to the new rules of engagement. We wished each other well.
In this social distancing era, every piece of face-to-face, human contact seems more precious by the day.
People send me an electronic message, I pick up the phone. I want to hear voices, see faces. I want contact, even if it is armed ninjas keeping us safe.
As the giant police van departed the scene, I waved. Through the tinted window, I could just make out the officer waving back.
This is how it should be.