my friday the 13th…

I learned something very important about myself today.  If anyone ever breaks into our home, I’m as good as dead. 

Friday mornings are always rough.  Tim gets up around 2:30am to go to work to spend time with third shift at his plant (not the green kind).  I get up every morning at 4:20am but on Friday it feels like I’m up at 2:30 because of all the commotion (Tim’s up which means Maddie our golden retriever is up and the girls – short for our three cats – are up…so inevitably I am up).

After getting in late last night from the awesome art show we were both exhausted and not really prepared to be functioning this morning.  He woke me up, kissed me goodbye and was down the stairs and off to work.  I made my way to the shower and realized I needed a towel.  I had taken my towel to the gym yesterday so I could have something to dry off with after I showered… I forgot it the day before and had to use my sweatshirt – that was gross.  So I trudge to the hallway closet, get a towel, trudge back to the bathroom, turn on the shower, undress…. and then I hear a thump, thump, thumping… like base from a car outside (why is that cool?  I have yet to understand).  I stand there, puzzled because it doesn’t stop.  I make my way over to a bedroom whose windows face the front yard (we call it the Bowflex room because that and a cat “birdhouse” is all that is in there).  No cars.  Strange.  I start walking BACK to the bathroom and running shower, writing it off as my sleep-induced stupor when I hear something that sounds like a chainsaw starting.  I freeze.  My heart is in my throat.  WHAT IS THAT?!  Who is trying to get in the house?!?  Why are they trying to cut through the house?!?!  I know I must only have a few seconds, maybe a minute to do something, anything.  So what do I do?  I decide the most important thing at that moment in time is my t-shirt and shorts I wore to bed.  My brain steers my body right back to the bathroom to pick them up.  I just CANNOT be naked when someone breaks in.  Unacceptable.

Wow.  Don’t count on me in a crisis.  In fact, just imagine me as the slow runner while everyone else gets away.  At least the people in the movies grab something heavy or sharp when they go investigate.  Yell at them all you want when you KNOW they shouldn’t open the door or turn the corner, but what other emotion – other than disbelief – would cross your face when instead you watched them walk calmly into the bathroom and get dressed while choas is erupting one floor below.

Who needs a blunt object when you have 100% pure cotton shorts and your husband’s nice, worn A&F t-shirt?

The lightbulb finally went off. 

Hint #1: I never heard Tim open and close the garage door.  Hint #2: No one was actually IN the house except me.  And if they were, I was of no interest.  Hint #3: The house alarm didn’t go off.  After #3 I knew I was safe.  I peeled off my clothes – yet again – to shower.

Turns out, Tim had to inflate his tires with this pump you plug into the wall that, when half asleep, sounds very much like a chainsaw.  And the thumping?  The music from his radio coming up through the garage right to, funny enough, the bathroom.  I figured all of this out a few seconds after I finished re-dressing myself to be decent for the intruder.

I called him later to relay my horror story.  How appropriate for Friday the 13th.

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2 Responses to “my friday the 13th…”


  1. 1 Shannon August 11, 2009 at 2:51 pm

    I love to randomly pick and read your old posts. Which then leads to my random comments from whatever happened months ago. At any rate I’m laughing. I’m the one who runs my naked ass through the house with a baseball bat quite sure I can kick some butt and save everyone. I’m sure the sight in itself would scare whoever away. I did manage to actually come out like this once when Dustin decided to reappear one weekend when he wasn’t suppose to be home. he just stood there laughing as I held the bat above my head. Good times

    • 2 Jessica August 11, 2009 at 3:20 pm

      Shannon: AHH! I had forgotten about that morning. I could have KILLED TIM. Literally and figuratively. And I can picture you doing that…then stopping right in the middle of the room, standing there…completely confused because you know somewhere in your brain that you’re supposed to hit the intruder…but they look so FAMILIAR……


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