Comfy of home disturbed

I live in a small community.. most drive by and have no idea what is here. We have about 300 people, they say on the sign. But we are growing. 40 more houses in one section.. another annexed in on Monday for about the same amount. They are nice designs. The contractors have gone the extra mile to make them people friendly with bike paths and etc.
I like living in this community. I lived here about 5 years before we bought our house. And even with our place being on the edge of the industrial part of the town, it is still a very nice quiet area. We don't have an official block watch. But the old fashion kind. Neighbors who look over at your property and if they see something that is strange, then they will tell you about it. May even take down the license plate of the car that was strange...in case you need it. We don't have a police dept. But the sheriff car does make a round or two occasionally. And they do come when called.
So why the "comfy of home disturbed"? Because we have led the life of a small community. Crime is a rarity. It is enough that we get upset when there is some in our community. And that happen this weekend. A couple is remodeling their home. It isn't one of those show type of home. Just a nice home. But someone of the so called adult nature decided after 11 p.m. that they needed the tools of that couple. And a few other supplies. Even took the time to drink a beer, but must have got disturbed as they didn't finish the beer. It wasn't an amateur, as they wore gloves.
Now the word is being passed thru the community. And we are angry. Now we have to lock everything. Out come the locks on the sheds, lock up the car at night, and now people are looking into motion lights. We are upset because we have the lack of lights everywhere. If you want to see the stars, just step outside at night. No neon signs, no bright street lights, just one here and there. We are being moved out of our comfort zone, and we are angry at the so called adult, who brings to us the reality of guarding our stuff. Not important stuff, but important to us. What a shame.