04 April 2009

Who Would Want to Break Into Our Apartment??

Mood: Exhausted (Spent the afternoon at my nephew's birthday party. 3 hours spent chasing 5 kids under the age of 6 is enough to wear anyone out!)

What I'm Watching: Hell's Kitchen ( I *heart* Chef Ramsey!!)

Despite living less than a block from a maximum security prison I've always felt relatively safe in our apartment. Sure, we lock the door (I honestly don't know why we bother because even I can use a credit card to pop the lock in less than 30 seconds) and windows (we live on the ground floor and the windows are made of glass...I realize how futile locking the windows is but still...), but I've never been the nervous "I heard a noise, go check it out" kind of a person so when I was awakened by the sound of someone rattling our doorknob at around 4:00 am the other morning (obviously an exception to the "alarm and phone" wake up rule), my heart jumped into my throat and I jumped up out of bed (after nudging a snoring Sparky who didn't even stir as I went to face down the horrors of home intrusion).

I get to the door, heart beating loudly in my ears, and peek out the peephole to view a completely empty hallway. I stood there, leaning against the door, trying to slow my breathing and using my weight (for once giving thanks that I'm not a skinny little thing) to prevent the bad guy from crashing in and turning me into the victim of a Manson family style killing. After five minutes of panic I managed to convince myself that I was not going to be the lead story on the morning news, took myself back to bed (where Sparky was still snoring away...some big protector he is) where I laid there, unable to sleep, listening for the possible return of Squeaky Fromme (or someone similar) and thinking of several random things related to my brush with death (dramatic much?):

1.) I do not sleep clothed in a state in which I would wish to: A.) confront an intruder or B.) be found by the police department after said intruder has turned me into a spaghetti strainer. Really, my 'lamby jammies' (a short nightie with lambs on it) is about 15 years old and worn nearly see-through after millions of washings. It's comfortable and I love it but perhaps it's time to retire it and start sleeping fully dressed 'just in case' (although the vision of my fat hiney in a semi-see through nightie might just be enough to scare off even the most hardened criminal).

2.) I have nothing on my side of the bed that can even remotely be considered as a viable weapon. There are no baseball bats, no golf clubs, not even so much as a sharp #2 lead pencil. I've got nothing with which to defend myself but my neverending stack of books (and not even a hardcover among them). So if someone actually breaks in the most I can hope to do is put them to sleep by reading them a boring book (note to self: buy boring books).

3.) Obviously Sparky is completely on board with the whole 'equal rights' thing as he blissfully slept through our brush with danger and allowed me to face down the potential bad guys on my own (call me crazy but I still think that there are some things the man should do: kill the bugs, take out the trash, and face down crazy intruders...I'd totally back him up by calling 911 as I'm crawling out the bedroom window).

4.) My apartment is very rarely in a state in which I'd wish it to be found by local law enforcement, family or friends should Sparky and I meet an untimely demise at the hands of a misguided cult member experiencing a complete psychotic breakdown. For example, Sparky and I know that there are perfectly rational explanations for oddities like: our clothes iron being on the kitchen floor, the hairdryer sitting on top of the fridge, the pile of rocks under the end table in our livingroom, and the unopened 2009 Chuck Norris calendar on the spare chair under our kitchen table but in the absence of our explanations (perfectly logical, mind you), we'll look like a pair of raving nut jobs. Not exactly the impression with which I'd like to leave people.

Luckily it was a false alarm and no doubt just a drunken neighbor confused about which apartment he lived in but, just in case, I think I'm going to have to move that Chuck Norris calendar!

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