Okay, so it’s almost midnight. But it’s still technically Saturday.
“But, why are you up?” You reasonably ask.
Because, friends, I am home alone again, and you know how well that goes for me. See, the rest of my family is on a weekend trip, but I had to come home early to work, so now I’m here alone.
After a very, very long day (which I’ll tell you about later), I got home at around ten. I ate my food (Mm mm, Panda Express for the win).
I made everything look like it was when I found it.
I unpacked my stuff.
I decided watering Mom’s plants could wait until it was light outside.
I realized that I desperately need a shower. So, I took one.
That’s mainly when I started thinking about the person I most definitely periodically hear moving through my house.
Now, LOGICALLY, I know there’s no one in my house. All the doors and windows have been locked since I got here, I left a couple lights on, and, really, why would there be?
I don’t know, guys, but I’m still irrationally afraid.
I know, I know, it’s our stunningly loud central A/C and water heater, I know that. I know I’m safe.
Does that stop me from double checking all the doors and windows and locking the door to my room?
Psh, of course not.
So I’ve had this fantasy of living on my own when I move out. See, you only have to cook and clean and look after yourself. Sounds pretty bomb. And, during the day, I’ve gotten to the point where I’m just fine when I’m home alone.
However, I’m discovering that night time is a different story.
I might need to reconsider that particular fantasy, huh?
Anyway, I am entirely exhausted, so I should really sleep now. If you never see another post, then there really was someone in my house and now I’m dead.
In the other, more likely case, be looking for my next post on Tuesday.