Kevin spent the night at his parents’ house last night. He went up to Rockland in the late afternoon on Sunday for Mother’s Day dinner and then stayed over night to attend his brand new nephew’s Bris this morning! Kevin’s sister Lisa gave birth to beautiful Baby Kyle early last week!
I didn’t go along for the big event because I wasn’t feeling 100% when I got home from Long Island on Saturday night, and woke up Sunday morning still under the weather. So I figured I should keep myself away from the newborn in the family.
I’m sad I didn’t get to go. But since Kevin and I both work from home right now, it’s rare that I get to have several hours in our house by myself and I’m always grateful when the opportunity presents itself.
On the flipside, I’m afraid of the dark.
It’s true. It’s pathetic and true. In fact, I’ve been afraid of the dark since I was a kid. I always slept with a nightlight when I was little, I could freak myself out with the best of them, and I even achieved my one and only trip to the emergency room for stitches when I was 10 years old because of my fear of the dark. (I was hurrying to get back into the house after running out to the garage to get something from the car. It was dark, I was panicked, I knew I’d heard a wolf growling at me, I was sure I was moments from death and in my frenzy I caught my hand on a piece of broken glass. Better that than being eaten alive by the Darkness Monster.)
So when the boyfriend, who is obviously a serial killer deterrent when he’s here, goes out of town, I go on high alert. I check inside all the closets and behind all the doors. I even check inside the cabinets and the fridge, just in case some ingenious murderer has figured out how to stash himself among our leftovers. You can never be too careful. I watch enough crazy killer shows to know that.
And, yes, that’s obviously a big part of the problem. I watch a lot of crazy killer shows. But I never watched that stuff when I was little and I’ve had this phobia since long before I was addicted to Forensic Files. So I’m going to propose that watching those shows doesn’t make me more afraid. It makes me more prepared.
So I slept on the couch for much of last night – with the TV and three lights on. Because I have a problem.
I’m gonna go check the bedroom closet now. It might be daytime, but murderers are unpredictable.
follow my bliss 
Whenever my husband is away, I too look in cabinets and behind sheer curtains for serial killers who someone silently snuck into my home. And I agree that watching all the killer shows does prepare you! Be safe, and don’t forget to check in the washer & dryer…. 🙂
I once checked between the fridge and the wall numerous times in one night to make sure no one was hiding in the 3″space. What can I say, my dog had growled at something, so I had to make sure I checked everywhere! 🙂
I am so, so relieved to know that I’m not the only one with this issue! I’ve definitely been freaked about it since long before starting to watch horror movies; I distinctly remember locking the basement door on any night when my parents went out and we had a babysitter.
My boyfriend teases me about how I quadruple check the locks before we go to bed for the night. And I was VERY pleased that our building has intense gates that cover the fire escape window – though I still keep the window closed, too. You never know who might slip in between the bars of the gate. Or lurk in the oven waiting until you are asleep.
I love that you can all relate to this. Makes me feel less nutty! Btw, Kevin pointed out to me that I wrote a post almost identical to this one the last time he went out of town and I got scared. HARUMPH. Maybe I did.