The scene: A nice subdivision in the 'burbs on a weekday morning in broad daylight.
Dramatis personae: Woman napping on sofa, Sumdood, and Sumdood's accomplice.
The story: A pleasant morning nap gets shattered by the sound of someone smashing at the front door. Our napper vacates the sofa and locks herself in the bathroom, loading the family long gun and dialing 911. The guys get into the house and make off with some money. They jiggle the bathroom doorknob in passing, but don't try to force entry, thereby preventing the day from going really pear-shaped.
The amazing part of the story is how everybody reacted with "I can't believe it happened here!" incredulity, like their magic anti-bad-guy force field had malfunctioned or something.
Just anecdotally, daytime burglaries in the 'burbs seem to be on the rise. It's easy enough to pull into a quiet cul-de-sac lined with McMansions between nine and five when all the DINKs are off picking digital cotton down on the cubicle farm and BAM, BAM, BAM... A few kicked-in front doors and you've had a good day's work in thirty minutes or so.
With a down economy providing more prodding for those of shaky morality to go into the freelance wealth-sharing industry as well as more cubicle dwellers to be napping on sofas of a Thursday morning, look for this scenario to become more, rather than less, common over the next several years.
(This is just one reason it's good to have the kind of neighbors that look out for each other.)