The Home Invasion That Wasn’t

Hi guys!

I’m back! Finally! Sorry about last week. The work on the living room came to a head, and what with that and fighting off a cold, I had no time or mental stability to sit down at the computer to pound out anything that would look like normal English. So obviously all you got was that list about the week before.  Did you get that?

Did you notice that I thought we had a break in, in the middle of the night? Yeeeeahhh… Turns out that when your nerves are shot and you’re feeling a bit ragged in every possible way, your brain can play tricks on you, with the help of just a few senses!

And here’s how… or at least, how, in my case…

It was around 1 AM that night (morning?) and Mike and I had gotten to bed late, as was usual the past couple of weeks. I was so tired that I couldn’t fall asleep properly. I hate getting like that – do you know what I mean? You just get so tired that your body is in constant ‘awake’ mode and you just can’t wind down properly. I could fall asleep, but it was only skimming the surface. Among other nattering thoughts, I was a little nervous about the safety of the house to begin with, since we had to take the old windows out of their frames in order to paint them. They had been like that for a couple of days, really. We had the storm windows down, so they were secured, and honestly, anyone who tried to walk through that landmine of a living room -what with it’s ladders, paint cans, and tarps strewn about- would break their neck and make a hellova noise before actually getting anywhere.

Yet that didn’t stop my subconscious being on alert and thinking ‘what if’s, despite my exhaustion and perfect safety. So while I was “sleeping” I was listening to the people outside walking home from the bars. By the way, we live within shouting distance of at least two bars, and walking distance of… I don’t know, a lot. It’s nice if you want a drink and a little night life (or something like that in this small city), not so much if you don’t like people shouting at each other as they’re walking home from said bars.

Anyways, usually I hear them come and go, but for some reason this group of people lingered just long enough. I heard them coming  – they sounded very clear and present for some reason, and suddenly I SWORE they HAD to be inside my kitchen, just down the hall from our bedroom. HOW ELSE COULD THEY SOUND THAT LOUD AND CLEAR???

MICHAEL!” I whisper-yelled to my poor sleeping husband, “someonesinsidethehouse!”

Well this man… This poor dead-asleep man… This man who, if awoken at a moment’s notice for ANYTHING else, is a believeable zombie…

This man was a tiger.

He little more than sat up, confirmed what he thought I said, then he was in ‘GO’ mode. He rolled out of bed, grabbed the case we have his pistol in and put it together. (By the way, I wasn’t worried about baby Finn, since he was sleeping in his crib in the same room as us. I was, nonetheless, hovering over him as he obliviously slept through the situation.) Then suddenly Mike grabbed his phone, and that’s when I realized that my gut was trying desperately to slap by adrenal glands, saying “Stop that! Nothing’s happening!” I realized that we might look very silly AND distract them from real work should we call the police and there be nothing in the house but a hysterical and sleep deprived housewife. I told Mike as much, mostly in jabbers of “maybe just drunks outside,” and he nodded and handed me his phone, which now had a picture of our kitchen on it.

“Watch this” he told me, and that’s when I remembered that we have a security camera in our kitchen (basically the room with the most traffic), that’s hooked up to our wifi, and locked down tight (internet-wise, that is. Again, I have a very savvy husband). He instructed me to keep an eye out while he looked around the house, brought the dog out with him, and began to scope out the house.

Meanwhile I hovered over Finn’s crib, staring intently into the magical screen that showed me the dimly lit kitchen and doorways, saying ‘Hail Mary‘s in the background of my brain and quivering with a surge of unnecessary adrenaline. I watched as our goofy Goldendoodle pranced about the house, peeking around the corners and looking back at Mike like “is this what we’re doing now? Are we going outside? Should I be concerned?” At that point my thoughts were more confirmed that there really was nothing in the house but me, the hysterical housewife. If there weren’t, my dog would not be acting like that. He may be goofy, but he knows what’s up.

But adrenaline flowed freely still, and I focused on my husband clearing each room in our house, and admired him. He lead with his eyes, keeping the gun down and his finger off the trigger the whole time (gun safety and knowledge saves lives people!). He checked every room and window, and moved slowly and stealthily, and made sure that his house was secure.

All this from a man who has literally pushed my nose trying to hit the snooze button, having rolled the wrong way. Twice. In a row. With his eyes open.

So what else could I do when he came back in but give him the biggest hug I could muster while still quivering and sleepy at 1 AM in the stinking morning (night?)? I was so proud of him, and come to find out, he was a little proud of himself too – we had never had a ‘situation’ before, and he performed admirably. I probably would have done a bit more myself (like make sure my phone was ready to call 911, grabbed Finn, etc) if I hadn’t realized so quickly that it was just my imagination. I also told him how grateful I was that he trusted my word without hesitation, and did all he could to make sure we not only really were safe, but that I felt safe. Or at least I tried to. I felt pretty silly at that point and I can’t remember what I really said – that was at least the gist of what I wanted to get across to him.

After that, we lay in bed nervously whispering to each other, me apologizing, him reassuring me that he was glad I said something nonetheless, trying to convince our poor brains to go back to sleep. One of the things that I thought over and over again was how grateful I was that God gave me such a wonderful husband and a man that I’m proud to have my son look up to.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of the home invasion that wasn’t.

Side note, and a little teaser – THE LIVING ROOM IS FINISHED! I hope to have pictures and the story of how it all wrapped up (with lots of help from our family!) on Wednesday! Stay tuned!


4 thoughts on “The Home Invasion That Wasn’t

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