Right.
Allow me a slight moment to work my wedged heart out of my throat and take a few deep breaths.
You know how I am always singing the praises of technology around here? Blah, blah, blah - I can't live without it and I am totally enamored with it and find it fascinating and what.ev.er?
Picture this:
- My eyes begin to glaze over as I watch TV tonight, so I decide to turn in early*.
- I set my house alarm, turn off all the lights, and make my nightly pilgrimage to the sanctuary that is my bed.
- I read for about 1/2 hour, then decide I am going to need toothpicks wedged into my eyes if I commit to another chapter, so it's probably best to officially turn in.
- I turn off my lamp, roll over and find the TV remote, turn it on and start to adjust the volume***.
- I begin to notice a loud beeping in the other room. It takes me a second, but I realize that my intruder alarm is sounding, and #@%*, I should probably do something about it.
- I leap from my bed, throw open the door, and then realize it can't just go running into the face of a nylon faced burglar/rapist/general freak of nature, so I stop in my tracks, heart racing.
- After a moment, the beeping turns to a solid "wwwaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh", and now I am this close to crapping my pants. I am also torn - if it's a false alarm, the cops are going to charge me $100 bucks if they have to drive all the way out, but if, on the other hand, it's not, someone could be lurking in my laundry room. What to do?
- I decide to chance it, and run in to the alarm. It allows me to disarm it, but according to the display, something is dreadfully wrong. A zone has been compromised, a potential burglar awaits.
- Panic! Do I call the police? Do I grab my keys and dash for the car? I can't think straight. So what does a girl like me do in these kinds of emergencies?
- I pick up the phone and call...my daddy. Yes, I am 33, and I still call him "daddy". And yes, I am in a potentially life and death scenario, and I call...my daddy, instead of the police. Whatever. Again, I say - "bite me".
- He answers the phone, hears the horror in my voice, and says "I'll be right over."
- It takes them about 7 minutes to get here, during which time I finally snap out of my frozen "listen-for-the-heavy-breathing" reverie, run to my room and LOAD MY GUN. ****
- My mom and dad arrive, complete a sweep of the house, pry the gun out of my sweaty palms, and we start to try and figure out what happened. We begin reading the alarm manual, and sure enough, it indicates one of the zones has been compromised - the back garage door.
- It's a literal effort for me not to fall over dead from heart failure - what if a masked bandit lurks in the shadows of my garage? What if they are out there now and they shoot my papa? What if they STOLE MY CD's? - but I hang tight while my dad goes outside to investigate. He determines that there are no tracks in the snow, and the door is locked and shut - all seems well.
- We start testing things out...all systems appear to be normal. After awhile, we chalk it up to a fluke thing.
- They leave, tell me to reset the alarm, and have a lovely evening. Who am I to tell them no? I immediately obeyed, reset the alarm, and wandered back to bed.
And the kicker to this story? My alarm just went off again. Unprovoked, no one lurking in a dark corner.
Faulty, stupid technology. Remember that time I needed sleep? Oh - right. That'll happen tonight.
* Uh uh, I know - I am a loser and have no hot Saturday night date. Oh wait! Perhaps the fact that I got up at 2 am MST to catch a plane, came home and went skiing [sort of], and was in that general "crash & burn" mode after a week of high intensity Manhattan stressfulness could have something to do with it? So bite me, haters of the dateless Saturday.
**Because after a week of that bloody ground zero jackhammer slamming away all night, I'm gonna need some noise to fall asleep.
***Because evidently, I wasn't wearing my Miracle Ear the last time I had it on.
**** Yes. I said LOAD MY FREAKING GUN, and no - I am not even a Republican Weenie. It's just that I'm a much tougher gal when I am armed.
6 comments:
i almost peed my pants with laughter. although i would have shat myself in that situation. the way you tell the story is so great! i'm glad all is well and you didn't have to use your gun!
"Load your gun"!!? How many jabs has Clay given to you since because you had to LOAD it and not just grab it??
Hilarious story. Glad it ended without blood, rape, or missing skiis/CDs.
Applause! Your funniest blog yet!!
And I'm glad you are safe. Those doggies must be over at the porn-addicted crap face's house.
You would have loved my class I took this semester where the professor blamed everything on technology. I loved it, though. See if he had taught it in a humorous way like that, I would have listened. I love how you call your dad, "daddy." It's so young :)!
Oh ... you've been tagged!
Netter! Aaah! That is so freaky. As a newbie to the chick-who-lives-alone-club I am just becoming familiar to the helplessness one feels when alone at night. I'm sorry! But thanks for having a sense of humor about it, and sharing it with all of us.
and then.... you were going to write a new post right? where are you?
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