Sometimes in life you just gotta be brave.
Other times, it just doesn’t work out that way. When that’s the case, and you’re reduced to a shivering bundle of nerves on the kitchen floor, holding a butcher knife in your shaking hand and calling 911 it’s best to remember that…
At least you can blog about it later!
After I posted the above picture on Instagram last weekend I had a few requests to blog the story. Since you’re probably a lot like me–trying to navigate a busy week–I thought you might enjoy a laugh. So here’s the tale of how I (sort of) survived a scary movie.
Over the weekend my sister-in-law and I were enjoying a thrilling girls night in which we put the kids down to bed and then folded an entire living room worth of laundry. Since we were in the mood to party we poured a little Baileys into our coffee and topped it off with vanilla ice cream. It was epic, I’m telling you. Epic.
We sat amongst towering piles of underwear and t-shirts, talking about books and telling stories. As midnight approached my beloved SIL decided it was time to tell a terrifying story from her trip to Africa. I’ll spare you most of the details, but let’s just say it involved disembodied CACKLING in a village in the middle of the night. I don’t know about you, but that’s exactly what I want to hear right before bed. Right as the story started getting really good…
DING DONG! DING-DONG-DING-DONG-DING-DONG-DIIIIIIIING-DOOOOOONG!!!
The door bell rang. Loudly. Then it rang again.
We froze. Ohmigosh, SOMEONE WAS AT THE DOOR!
Now, maybe it’s no big deal if someone comes to your door in the middle of the night. We live in a pretty nice area in our city, but let me assure you, no one in their right mind would EVER open the door here after dark. That would be about the stupidest thing to do ever. Since my husband was out of the house and couldn’t protect us by saying “Who’s there?” in a manly voice, we did what any mature female would do in this situation.
We hit the floor and dialed 911.
The answering voice asked me to, “Please state your emergency,” which gave me pause as I considered whether this was, indeed, an emergency. And then…
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCKITY KNOCK-KNOCK! The Someone at the door started pounding. They just wouldn’t stop. Definitely an emergency!
I’m pretty sure I stared crying over the phone with the 911 dispatcher at this point, but don’t hold it against me because it was late, I had three children in the house, my husband was out, and a scary person was on my doorstep!
While we waited for the police, my SIL darted around the house making sure all blinds were closed. I summoned all my strength of spirit and crept to the front door to make sure all deadbolts, chains, and bars were locked. At some point we procured knives and sat down on the kitchen floor away from all the windows in case our door-knocking friend turned out to be a killer ala the first Scream movie and throw himself through the window.
At one point we heard noises along the side of the house which sounded like someone opening the side gate. So, obviously, we called 911 again for good measure, and even phoned the closest friend we could think of who owned a gun. Was he awake and would he please consider bringing his gun to threaten the intruder?
That part embarrasses me now, but seriously, I thought they might be looking for our bodies by morning.
Finally, at around 1:00 a.m. the doorbell rang again. We freaked, called 911 A THIRD TIME (the dispatcher and I were on a first name basis), and waited to open the door until we were absolutely sure it was a police officer. Thankfully, it was. He was a nice, authoritative-looking man with an amused look on his face.
“Hello ma’am. Did you know the dome light is on in your van? It seems as though your neighbor has been trying to inform you so the battery wouldn’t die.” He tried not to smile. I was acutely aware of the knives we were holding.
We stood there trying to wrap our minds around this concept. Why on earth would a neighbor think it was a good idea to ring the doorbell REPEATEDLY in the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? Even if our battery was being drained by the offending dome light, please, please leave me alone until morning!
My SIL and I kept it together long enough to thank the officer, go back inside and re-lock all the doors. Then we collapsed in a fit of nervous giggles, punctuated by, “What was the neighbor thinking?”
I woke up in the morning feeling like the whole thing was hilarious and could have been easily avoided by saying, “Who is it?” through the door the first time he rang. I still wouldn’t have opened the door, but at least he would have gone away. Of course, these things are easy to see and understand in the morning, and anyway, I didn’t want to alert any possible serial killers to our presence in the house.
If I learned anything from this story it’s that I’m not as brave as I think I am, and that Instagram is the best way to calm your nerves when you’re sitting on a cold tile floor in the wee hours of the morning holding a giant knife. Sister, I’m so glad you were there with me. It wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun by myself.
And how about you? Do you have any scary home-alone stories? How do you plan to protect yourself if someone does try to intrude? This is something we are still thinking through. Thanks for reading, friends! I’ll be back with a sewing project tomorrow. Love ya!