I need therapy. If I had actually slept at all last night I probably wouldn't be sharing this story with you. However, since I am currently in a manic, caffiene-powered state - I think telling the tale of my insanity is a fabulous idea. I am an admitted scaredy cat. I despise spending the night home alone. I do deserve a little pat on the back though because I have come a long way from my earlier days. At least now I can usually fall asleep with a little help from a glass of wine (w/ all the lights on of course).
I have this illogical fear of attack and of the outside world once it gets dark. I'm not sure why but when the sun shines there are no bad people. I am always safe from harm during the daytime. It isn't until sunset that I begin to believe I am in danger. The weirdos only come out after dark. I'm not scared of that person that wants to rob my home. I'm scared of that wack-job stalker that gets off on watching me be terrified. I have this theory about my stalker hanging out in my attic and then coming down to get me after I fall asleep at night. Where did I get this ludicrous idea? We can thank CSI for that one.
When I used to live downtown I heard glass shatter in my living room. It took me a full hour to get up the courage to see if the boogie man was setting up shop on my couch. Don't ask me why but I didn't call 911. Better to be seriously maimed, than to have to look like an idiot when the cops show up to find nothing but a loony, panicked housewife. I finally explored the origin of the sound with a shaking pistol in my hand only to discover that it was merely a glass Christmas ornament that had fallen and shattered on my hard wood floor. This experience shamed me into letting go of the fear that consumed me.
Thus the point of this story. I have done so much better since the ornament attack. Mainly because my husband has switched to a position that no longer requires him to travel but lets not get hung up on the minor details. Yesterday he had to go out of town just for the night. I was totally mature and didn't hang on his leg and beg him not to leave me all by myself. Actually I was fine. At least until the sun went down and I heard a strange noise originating from the attic. An odd sound that reminded me of someone growling.
Terror set in. I grabbed both of my sleeping children and tossed them into my bed. I locked my door, switched on all my lights. barricaded the door with my dresser (and that was a feet), and then sat there starring at the light at the door with a hunting knife on my dresser and a unloaded pistol (I planned on throwing it or using it for scare value) in my hand, waiting to see the shadow of feet under my door.
I did this for about an hour. Then I called me best buddy and begged her to come rescue me. She assured me that I was crazy and would feel really stupid in the morning. To which I replied, how stupid will you feel when they make a movie scarier than Scream to document what happens to me tonight? She would not budge. She knows me too well. I turned on Gossip Girl. Then One Tree Hill and after that proceeded to watch Two & and half men reruns. On the plus side we were right on time for preschool this morning.
Did I discover the origin of the mysterious growl? The verdict is still out on that one. In the meantime if you would like to donate to the fund for my mental therapy please let me know. Am I the only one that suffers from an overactive imagination that is so powerful you can become paralyzed with terror? Please share your stories with me and help me to feel a little less foolish as I write this post on zero sleep because I heard a growl in my attic. Wow - it sounds more and more crazy each time I repeat it.