Wednesday, April 15, 2009

On encountering home invaders in the middle of the night

You know how whenever you wake up in the middle of the night, you're wide awake and completely alert but when your alarm goes off a few hours later you feel like you've been drugged and you're not entirely sure where you are or what day it is?

Speaking of the middle of the night, I was convinced my apartment had a home invader the other night when I got up to go to the bathroom some time around 3 a.m. Before we go on, I'd like to clarify that I've rarely actually used the words home invader in a sentence before now. And I'd never actually ever heard anyone else use it either except for that time last year in the parking lot of the Disco Biscuits concert when that girl on horse tranquilizers told me a story about the home invasion she witnessed in the middle of a party she recently attended. The words home invasion were sprinkled into her story more times than the letter A. It was equal parts awesome and terrifying. A home invasion. In the middle of the party. And I'm pretty sure there were ninjas. Or maybe they were Ohioans.

ANYWAY. The other night I was walking towards the bathroom in the dark when I heard something rustling in the dining room. Naturally, I assume someone has somehow broken into our apartment and is in the dining room AT THAT VERY SECOND probably stealing the giant chalk board we picked out of our neighbors trash last year. Or our basket of shoes. Or my oven mitt. The possibilities are endless depressingly small.

I ran back into the bedroom and shook B awake, hissing.

Me: B. B, GET UP. GET. UP, B.

B: The hell?

Me: Something is in the dining room. I think it's a home invader. Or a ghost. But most likely a home invader.

B: Did you just say home invader? What are you, on drugs?

Me: Or a GHOST. Get up.

B jumped out of bed and grabbed two pieces of 2x4 we use to prop open our bedroom windows in the summer. With a slab of wood in both hands, he led the way towards the dining room. We stopped, frozen at the threshold between living room and dining room, and listened. This time the rustling was louder and more frantic. In a panic, I switched on the light.

And there, nonchalantly sitting on top of my giant Jewish Easter basket, was a mouse. Those fuckers are back. And this house is getting firebombed.


well read hostess said...

Could have been worse.

Could have been Ohioans.

Amanda said...

I constantly think home invaders are either in my house, or about to come into my house. I'm paranoid that way.

Deidre said...

A possum tried to climb into my window last week. A POSSUM.

How dare a mouse try to steal your jewish easter basket - little bastards.

rory said...

As you stroll towards your beach house toss the firebomb over your shoulder and maybe it'll take out the dude downstairs wearing your dress as well.
Hey, a girl can dream?

pj said...

Those darn ohio ninja mice are relentless, and hungry.

b's mom said...

i am proud to say that the writer of this blog is my future daughter-in-law----i think.

Krysta said...

When my ex and I broke up and went our separate ways he gave me a louisville slugger to keep by my bed.

Chatham said...

A mouse was eating your Jewish Easter Basket?

Whhaaaat?! HAHAHA!

Maybe you need a ninja...


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