Not Nancy Drew

I admit that I have an overactive imagination. And maybe it was because I had just seen the movie, "I Am Legend" with my daughter last night, but I woke up this morning at 3, hearing a noise downstairs that sounded like footsteps. I sat up in my bed, in a frozen, possum-like stance; my ears straining to listen. Creaking. On the first floor. An Intruder?? My heart raced.

I quickly groped about my room for a weapon. What should I use? My Intuition razor? A bottle of perfume? (“Yo, Intruder, you'd better leave my premises immediately. I have Chanel #5 and I know how to use it! If you come any closer, I’ll spray some in your eyes, and it might sting a bit!”) No. The only danger to The Intruder would be if he laughed so hard he dropped the gun on his foot.

Then I remembered my "weapon", the fireplace poker I keep under my bed, for the infrequent times when my husband is out of town. I grabbed the poker, and headed to the stairs to investigate. That is when Super Hubs woke up. “What’s going on?”, he asked sleepily. “I think I hear a prowler and I’m going to hit him with this," I whispered. With a look of alarm, my husband grabbed the poker from my hands, and told me to stay put, while he went downstairs. I picked up my cell phone, ready to dial #911 if necessary.

Then I checked on my children; safe and sleeping in their beds. But where was the dog; our Loyal Family Canine and Protector of All Things Evil? “Rudy?” I called, looking in all his usual sleeping places. But he was not to be seen. Had The Intruder silenced my dog? OMG; was my dog bound and gagged somewhere in a closet in the house??! But then I spotted him, sleeping under our bed, oblivious. And completely useless.

Super Hubs came back into the bedroom and told me he had checked every area of the house; opened every closet, peeked around every corner, and saw nobody. Our house was safe and secure. “You must have heard one of the cats. Or just the heat creaking through the pipes.” “Sorry,” I said, sheepishly, as he went back to bed.

I cannot help it that I conceive drama where there is none: I hear our cat during the night and think it’s an Ax Murderer; I can’t find the dog and assume he’s been murdered. My reasoning that The Norm could possibly be The Scary is probably, in part, caused by my steady diet of crime television viewing and mystery novels. I should probably cut back on those, for the sake of our sleep cycles.

But it’s also due to my colorful thought processes, which kept spinning long after Super Hubs went to bed. I finally fell asleep at 5:30am. So this morning I needed lots of caffeine. And today I am trying to lay off the frightening media, at least for a day, so Super Hubs can get some rest tonight.