Things That Go Bump in the Night

Last night, I had a very Annika-style scare. At about two thirty in the morning, my doorbell started going crazy and someone started knocking somewhat frantically at my door. Anyone who knows me at all knows that I rarely answer the door when I'm not expecting anyone at high noon, let alone 2:30 in the morning! A lot of things went through my head at that moment: It's probably just some drunken idiot, I do live in a college kid area. Or... it could be someone trying to rape and pillage me. Or... it could be someone who is about to be raped and pillaged and needs my help. Or... it could be a ghost (yeah, that's why I shouldn't watch scary movies, and I did just see a poster for the sequel to The Ring). How did my body react when I was thinking all these things? I sat frozen in bed like as if I moved, the drunk, burglar, victim, or ghost would know I was there and this information would somehow have an impact on my predicament. Soon, I became mad at the mysterious evening caller. I wanted to call the cops, but I couldn't exactly remember the number (it was late, after all), and also, I don't like cops. I figured that the mystery guest would soon be gone, and then cops would keep me up the rest of the night making me feel like a scared, little girl. Sure enough, a minute or so later, the knocking and incessant doorbell ringing ceased and so, logically, I could now go back to sleep. I, however, thought it better to jump at the slightest noise in my party-zone neighborhood and not go to bed for two more hours.

The sad part is part of me was feeling guilty because it could have been the victim option. I half expected to see blood spattered on my door this morning and feel the utter guilt for someone's death. Of course, there was no such blood, but I did see 7 empty beer cases on my way to church this morning. Sweet. So I guess it was fair not to answer the door in my p.j.'s at 2:30 in the morning, but I still feel like a girlie wuss.