the police…and no pants.

Two things you need to know before reading this:

1. Tim sleeps in a t-shirt and boxers (you’re welcome)

2. Tim’s Puzzle Theory – which is if something doesn’t work/fit, then push, pull, do whatever it is more and harder until it works/fits (all of Tim’s wooden puzzles had rounded edges as a kid because he’d bang them into a spot even if they didn’t fit….until they did).

Our house has a security system. I may have mentioned that before…maybe not. Either way, around 3:45 this morning (it could have been closer to 4…either way, EARLY), I wake up to the shrieking of the sirens of the alarm going off, full bore.

I sat up in bed, waiting to see if I actually needed to start panicking or not, keeping one hand on Kellan, wondering what I was going to do with him if I was, indeed, to panic. Tim sleeps in the guest bedroom because Kellan still doesn’t sleep through the night and he also takes up 95% of the queen size bed…another story for another time…

I listened as the alarm continued to go off for at least thirty seconds or so, part of my brain wondering why in the hell Tim didn’t just push the button on the remote key fob we have (and that he keeps with him at night) to turn the thing off.

My first thought was that one of the dogs had somehow set it off and then before I really had a chance to ponder any more theories, I hear Tim open the guest bedroom door and go downstairs.

A few seconds later, I finally hear the disarm beep and Tim trudge back upstairs.

I decided I didn’t need to panic. Ok. This is good. False alarm. We can all relax and try to go back to sleep…..

Not two minutes later, I hear the guest bedroom door open again and a flurry of activity follows with Tim yell-whispering, “Lexi! No! Stay!” and then I hear him run down the stairs.

Again, my first thought was centered around the dogs. Maybe Maddie, our golden, was having bowel issues and Tim was going down to let her out because she needed to GO. NOW.

And then my second thought was, “What if Lexi needed to go out, too? That wasn’t very nice…”

I waited….and waited….and waited….the back sliding glass door never opened to let Maddie outside….what was going on, now?

Finally, Tim comes upstairs and into the master bedroom where I’m laying there, waiting on him. The second he walks in I’m all, “WHAT IS GOING ON?”

Tim comes over to the bed where Kellan is wide awake and rolling around, and was all, “I squished the wrong button!”

Me: What?

Tim: That was the police, by the way. At the door?

Me: WHAT?! What happened?

[BACKGROUND: Apparently, a thought of sheer panic happened around 3:45 this morning in Tim’s brain. See, we are having trees planted and last night, Tim wanted to make sure he turned off the sprinklers because we just had the yard marked with the gas lines and he didn’t want the paint on the grass to wash away. Obviously, the sprinklers were never turned off, so at 3:45, Tim rockets up out of bed to run downstairs and turn off the sprinklers before the timer goes off and they turn on automatically]

Tim: So I wake up in a panic and I grab the key fob and I squish the off button…and the alarm starts going off. And I keep squishing the button again and again and again….all the way down the stairs…wondering why it isn’t working…until I realize that I’m squishing the panic button….

(At this point I can only imagine Tim looking at the key fob like it has just grown two heads like, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” followed by, “OMG. IT’S NOT YOU. IT’S ME.”)

….and after I realized I had repeatedly squished the panic button I just knew the police were going to call so I ran back upstairs to get my phone annnnnnd sure enough. They called, asking if I was ok and if you were ok and if I was the only person in the house. I said everyone was ok and that no one else was in the house…but either they didn’t believe me or they didn’t believe me because the dispatcher was all, “I’m sending someone out anyway.”

So, I’m rummaging around trying to find pants and not two minutes after I get off the phone, they’re knocking on the door.

The police are knocking on our door and I DON’T HAVE ANY PANTS ON.

I realized I didn’t even have time to find any pants because if I took too long then they would for sure bust down the door so I ran downstairs and opened the door to greet them to let them know everything was ok and the second I open the door I realize our house was lit up like Christmas freaking morning. Flashlights all in our windows and the damn spotlight from their police car centered right on our house and I DON’T HAVE ANY PANTS ON.

The police officer at the front door wanted to know if I was ok…and if you were ok…and during this exchange, his partner was standing there, in our front yard, hand on holster.

I just stood there, stripped of my dignity, shaking my head back and forth in my hands all, “I squished the wrong button…I just squished the wrong button!”

I guess he finally believed me because I probably looked like I came straight out of an episode of Cops where the officer drags someone straight out of bed, hair all crazy, half dressed, mostly disoriented, and start asking them questions. You realize even doing simple math when you’re half awake is nearly impossible, right? Anyway, he gave me his card and left…OMG.

Me: What?

Tim: What is our information for the security company to let them know everything is ok? They still haven’t called. WHAT IS THE CODE?

Me: It is [censored information because I’m not giving you that]?

Tim: That’s the hostage code. I’m going to give them the hostage code? After all this???

Me: Oh…right. That probably wouldn’t be a good idea. You’d definitely end up cuffed in the backseat of their car.

Tim ran downstairs to find the right information because he wasn’t about to have another visit from our new friends from the local PD.

Fifteen or so minutes later, the security company called all, “Do we need to call the police?”

Tim was like, “Um….They were already here?”

He gives the person on the phone whatever it is that they need when you accidentally hit the panic button and hung up the phone all, “I’m going to take a shower, now. I feel like a moron. I cannot believe I just squished the wrong button and had to answer the door in front of two police officers WITHOUT ANY PANTS.”

A few seconds after Tim finished showering, he popped his head out of the bathroom door all, “Do you think we’ll make the police blotter??”

I smiled like, “That would be hysterical.”

Tim: “I would be mortified.”

Husband of the year, right here, folks.


11 Responses to “the police…and no pants.”

  1. 1 Shannon September 20, 2012 at 3:33 pm

    OMG I’m dying laughing. Poor Tim. That is too funny. Thanks for the laugh. Sorry Tim had to be all exposed and shtuff

  2. 3 diane1926 September 20, 2012 at 4:07 pm

    I am crying I am laughing so hard! And the fact that you had no clue that this three-ring circus was happening makes me lose it. The neighbors must love you now. I hope his boxers have a button or two. 😉

    • 4 Jessica September 20, 2012 at 4:23 pm

      Diane: and you know Tim – doesn’t like to leave the house with a single hair out of place and here he is, pantless, in front of two dudes with guns….

      And I had zero clue…Zero.

  3. 5 Kathleen Reifsnyder September 20, 2012 at 4:31 pm


  4. 6 Wildology September 20, 2012 at 7:40 pm

    I love that he squished it instead of pushed it…like it was a bug:)!

  5. 8 Jenera September 20, 2012 at 11:54 pm

    I literally laughed out loud over here in the land ‘o potatoes and was shushed by my husband. I can picture him repeatedly pushing the button hehehehe

  1. 1 bea-u-ti-ful! « booshy Trackback on November 5, 2012 at 10:08 am
  2. 2 when your key doesn’t fit « booshy Trackback on November 9, 2012 at 9:51 am

Comments are Awesome! I love them all!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

this is where you ask those burning questions

Enter your email address to follow booshy and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,424 other followers

OR follow booshy with feed burner

my past…it happened

clever girls

stealing is not nice

%d bloggers like this: