There's been a rash of break-ins here in Caucasian Acres, and it's made the residents a little jumpy. Doors that have previously been left unlocked are firmly shut and the deadbolt thrown. The ADT Security man has been seen daily and will, no doubt, be enjoying a nice spring bonus. Front porch lights and driveway lights are left blazing all night long, making the alleyways look like landing strips.
Despite the proximity of our houses and vigilance of our neighbors and increased presence of our local law enforcement, we are LIVING IN FEAR.
'Living in fear' quite often results in 'living in ridiculousness'. It's a fine line.
Last Saturday night, the Husband went out with some friends. One of those friends parked his car in front of our house. Our house, with it's front porch light on, and back porch light on, and numerous lights on within the house. After they went out, I tucked my darlings into bed and settled in for a relaxing evening alone. I applied various lotions to my feet, put on socks and slippers, slipped into my floor length granny nightie, and went upstairs to the computer to write. Or watch videos of people popping huge zits.
Around 10:15, the doorbell rang. My first instinct was that it was Katie, who was spending the night at a friend's house a few doors down. Had she gotten sick? I hurried down the stairs, and, as I did, looked out the windows of the door.
There was a police car sitting in front of my house.
The very last thing you want to see sitting in front of your house while you're husband is out is a police car. I was shaking as I opened the door. I stood with my arms held tight against my chest , trying to contain my chestiness. It is funny, the things that go through your mind in an instant.
My boobs, with their southwest and northeast pointing nipples, will be a distraction to this poor man giving me bad news.
Oh please please please let him be okay.
Good God, why don't I own a robe?
If I faint and he has to help me up, he is going to be very uncomfortable doing so, what with my boobs and all.
After I get over the heart crushing grief, I am going to be so embarrassed.
God please I will never do anything bad ever again.
Fuck me, I am wearing socks with slippers. What a loser.
The Husband was, of course, safe. A neighbor had called about the 'suspicious vehicle' in front of our house. After ensuring the officer that I did indeed live at this address (what gave it away? The nightie? The slippers? The lack of a bra?) and that the vehicle in front of the house was owned by a friend, I sent him on his way.
I don't know which one of us got the bigger scare that night.
2 weeks ago