Screech. Scratch. Like nails on a chalkboard. Scratch, screech, scratch. Ohh I should not be hearing noises like this at 2am. Or ever. It’s Freddy Krueger. I know it. Roll out of bed, grab the baseball bat from under my bed. (Don’t judge me, it’s like my security blanket K?) Hold my breath and tiptoe to investigate the noise. Sigh, just a tree branch knocked loose against the window courtesy of the crazy high winds. Good grief I am a scaredy cat. Back to bed.
Running water downstairs? Um, why do I hear water running downstairs? Both girls are accounted for, tucked snug in their beds. I just checked when I wandered the halls with the baseball bat. So why the water? Oh yes, the dishwasher. On a money saving timer set to start late late into the night. Back to bed.
A car door slams. Just a cab bringing home the neighbour’s kid from a late night of partying. Back to bed.
Finally, finally I drift off to sleep when ……
Pfffft. Oh Sh*t. What is that????
Pffft. Ahhh. Never mind. I don’t think bad guys stop to blow there noses. Damn those runny noses. Back to bed.
sleeps nights until the Hubby gets home, then I can get some rest.
There aren’t too many axe murderers in the suburbs. Right?