Friday, October 14, 2005

and also my shirt is on backwards

I'm going to preface this by advising my mother and father and any other relatives who worry about me living all alone (except for a cat, who obviously provides no protection unless you try to pick her up and then she'll SCRATCH YOUR EYES RIGHT OUT) not to read the following entry, especially if they'd like to ever sleep soundly again without wondering if I've been murdered in my bed or kidnapped by cult members.

I'm fairly certain that someone tried to get into my apartment last night. Or this morning. Whatever. Sometime around 4 AM, I woke up because I heard the blinds by the sliding patio door moving. They're those vertical ones that are super loud whenever they move. I didn't think much of it, because sometimes Phoebe moves them to look out the window or chase a bug (like a KILLER CRICKET, now THOSE are scary). Then I heard a huge crash and I thought I heard what sounded like someone trying to open the patio door but the lock was catching it. It's a very distinctive sound so that got me pretty freaked out but then I heard someone talking outside my bedroom window (which was open, I know shut up I'm retarded). At that point I sat straight up in my bed, heart pounding, kind of feeling like I might vomit, and ran to my bedroom door and locked it. I went back over the (still open) window and tried to listen but I couldn't tell if anyone was out there. Then I started doubting myself. You're being stupid, Jennie, it was probably just Phoebe knocking the fan over, no one is out there.

Finally, ignoring all the instincts gleaned from watching too many horror movies, I turned on my bedroom light, unlocked the door and walked into the living room BY MYSELF. Sure enough, the floor fan had been knocked over, which is probably what made the crash. I checked the patio door and it was still locked and there was no scary, hooded figure standing menacingly in the corner with a machete OR a chainsaw. I cursed myself for getting so freaked out over nothing, and then I looked closer at the door. It was still locked, sure, but the screen on the outside had been opened a few inches. Just enough for, say, someone to test and see if the glass door was unlocked. Commence Freak Out, part two: The Urge to Vomit Strikes Back. Actually, it wasn't so much a freak out as a slow walk back to my room, grabbing my cell phone and keys on the way, locking the bedroom door, and climbing into bed into the safety of my covers. I didn't sleep much after that. I really tried, but every time I heard a noise my eyes would pop open and my heart would start pounding and my brain would start screaming, 'KILL KILL KILL.'

When I got out of bed a couple of hours later, I again checked the screen door, hoping it had just been a nightmare. Nope, still open. I've been thinking about it (and thinking and thinking and thinking) and I'm guessing it was either some kids who wanted to mess around in an empty (or any unlocked) apartment or it was a crazed killer who wanted to cut out my eyes and entrails or it was a very polite zombie who didn't want to break my window OR it was just some run of the mill criminal who wanted to steal my TV and ALSO I should stop watching so movies.

Honestly, I'm more upset that my shirt has been on backwards for two hours and I just now noticed. Thank you, sleep deprivation. If I'd known someone was going to try to FREAK ME THE HELL OUT at 4 AM this morning, I would have gone to bed earlier.

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