Last night I was startled awake at 11:30 by what I thought was a man in a plaid shirt, walking by our room. I, of course, had a silent little freak-out session in bed, before I realized that I had not seen a man in a plaid shirt walk by our room, because there is no way I could have seen anything to that degree of detail in the dark without my glasses on. It was all a figment of my imagination.
Let me take a moment to say that the number of times I have woken up in the night CERTAIN that someone was robbing my house is ridiculous. Has my house ever been robbed? No. Have I ever lived in a neighborhood that is particularly dangerous? No. One time, when I was a teenager, I'm pretty sure I laid in bed for 1/2 hour, my heart pounding, trying to keep as still as possible, waiting for the intruder to leave. And then it took every ounce of courage inside of me to slowly pick up my glasses and slide them onto my face. And then I saw that I had been hiding all this time from the closet. The closet. Not a madman come to murder me in my bed, a closet. Ridiculous.
So, back to our story. Clark left for work this morning to find the front door open a crack. It had been open all night long.
Cue a second little freak-out session.
Julia was playing down there yesterday, and we must have forgotten to close the door. Or there really was a man in a plaid shirt in my house last night! You wouldn't even know if we'd been robbed, our house is such a mess right now! But don't worry, nothing of value is missing. Just a few puzzle pieces. However I'm pretty sure the culprit of that crime is less than 3 feet tall and doesn't own a plaid shirt.