I cannot believe I am about to share this with the five people who read this blog. But hey, things have been kinda ho-hum around here lately, so I figured "Why not give the ol' blog a kick in the pants by sharing a story that will make me look like a complete and total moron?".
Our electricity went out last week during a thunderstorm, so I had to reset all of the digital clocks in the house, including my coffee maker's clock. And when I went to reprogram the "delay brew" time (usually set to 5:00 every morning), I thought "Why not set it for 5:15am instead, so it will be that much fresher when I get up at 5:20 every morning?". So I did. And let me tell you, I was pretty proud of myself. Fresher! Hotter! COFFEE!!! Fast forward to the next morning, 5:20am on the dot. I stagger out of the bedroom in my pjs, feeling my way to the kitchen to gulp down that first cup of (much fresher now) coffee. About two steps into my walk down the hallway to the kitchen, I froze. Grabbed the wall to steady myself. What was that I heard? OH DEAR GOD, someone has broken into our house in the early morning hours and is rifling through our things downstairs. My heart raced like I had just taken speed, I panicked like I have never panicked before. The noises got louder and louder as I wondered what the hell the intruder(s) were DOING down there. WHAT could they possibly be looking for? Barbies and baby wipes are about the extent of the jackpot in this house. My mind was racing, I broke out in a cold sweat. What to do?!?! Tip toe as quietly as I could back to our room, wake up the husband and let him handle this horrific situation? Gather up my babies and jump out a window to safety, thunderstorm be damned? No, I couldn't do that, as there is a floorboard in the hallway that creaks and the intruders would surely hear me padding around upstairs and come looking for the person who has now foiled their plans to rob us blind. And likely, kill me. I couldn't call the police, as my cell phone was downstairs probably sitting right next to the ten masked men who had just broken into my home, I had now convinced myself of this. So in the dark, at 5:20am, I crouched in the hallway alone, and cried. Silent, panicky tears, because we were all going to DIE. We've lived here for not even three weeks, and we are going to die in this house. I shouldn't have written that blog entry titled "I Will Die In This House If It's The Last Thing I Do", is what I told myself. I thought briefly about running down the stairs at full force and beating them all over the head with Charlie's Drop 'n' Roar Dinosaur toy that was sitting nearby, but the thought better of it. So I sat in the hallway and....wait, what was that sound? Oh, God help me, they're HISSING now. HISSING! What kind of psychopaths have come into my home?!? Oh God Oh God Oh God, please help me. And then? THEN. THEN! I heard bubbling steam noises. From the coffee pot. Turns out I was used to waking up to a completely silent, coffee-has-already-completed-its-brew-cycle house. And the coffee maker almost made me pee my pants.