Both Adam and I are incredibly paranoid people. Feel bad for our kids. Adam's excuse- he lived in Albania. His paranoia got so bad that two or three times a week he would wake-up in the middle of the night because the creaks in our old house- floor boards above, the fridge, the heater- made him think people were walking through the house. He has to sleep with ear plugs now.
I have an overactive imagination. Very helpful when writing a book. Not so helpful when I wake- up in the middle of the night having to use the bathroom and I am afraid to walk through a dark living room on my own. Don't worry- I always get the guts to do so. I am rational sometimes. But I am the type that if Adam is an hour late I start thinking that he got in a car accident etc. And I don't just worry. I imagine the policeman coming to the door, my devastation, the funeral, what I would have to do afterwards to get along on my own....
Overactive. I told you.
Which leads me to this morning. 6:15 am, my alarm goes off. I am already partly awake because I have to pee. So, instead of walking around the bed- the quicker way to the bathroom- I don't want to take Adam up who was up late studying so I go through the living room.
After the bathroom I walk into the kitchen and open cupboards, the fridge, and try to decide what to eat. I'm not hungry yet. So I decide to take cereal to work with me and eat there. I do this a lot. I start to measure cereal out into a plastic baggie and I look up.
The front door is right across the living room from me. We have a very open floor plan. Our front door has a window of tempered glass in it. Very pretty actually. I love it. Normally at 6:20 in the morning the window is pitch black. But this morning I see there is a funny color there. Kind of tan.
Right. I remind myself of my overactive imagination. "It's a wreath Sarah."
One second later. "Wait, there is no wreath. I took all the decorations down."
By this time I have already put the cereal box back in the cupboard so out of curiosity (and because I have to get back to the bedroom to get dressed) I get closer. I think its a flyer or something from the ward. When I get to the couch I stop. What I am telling myself not to be paranoid about, is what is actually there.
A mans face pressed against the glass staring at me walking around the house in my underwear.
When he realizes I realize that he is real he bolts. I can hear his feet running up the stairs from our basement apartment.
We didn't call the police. The man was already long gone. But we told our neighbors and called our landlords. Adam drove me to work (kiss the ease of walking to work goodbye) and then sat with me inside the store for a while until I was okay. He even checked the whole store to make sure there was no one there. Poor man was so tired but he was so wonderful and so brave.
I guess it's kind of like they say. You know, the doctors kids always get sick, the cobblers kids never have shoes? The paranoid have a good reason for being so.
We are fine... this post isn't to freak YOU out. Its to dictate our thrilling and scary experience. Just... remember to close your blinds and lock your doors okay?