Somebody's knockin'Should I let them inLord it's the Devil, would you look at himI've heard about him, but I never dreamedHe'd have blue eyes and blue jeans
At exactly 6:53 A.M., someone decided to knock at our window asking for someone named 'Ryan'. I don't know how long they were knocking exactly. I honestly was dreaming I had to get up for work. So when I first heard i,t I thought it was part of the dream. This is when I looked at my phone, and I knew it was exactly 6:53. This was probably the first time I woke up and checked the time first, and not my Facebook updates.
It's a sad, sad addiction. Another blog, another time.
It was a bad moment all around. I had slept in my bra and panties, so I immediately felt violated.
Can they see me? How's my hair? Where are my clothes?
I began to worry about myself for a moment. Those are not appropriate responses to someone possibly breaking into your house. Of course I'm the only one that hears this crap. I'm a light sleeper, so I had to go get out my tuba to make my husband wake up. Thank God I still have it. He was kind of in that, 'Where are we-What time is it-Sleep daze, ' that you have when someone wakes you when you are not supposed to be awake. As much as I claim I am independent, and can take care of me. I need my hubby to protect me in moments like this. When crap like this happens I'm sure I need to be connected to some kind of heart monitor. He was probably thinking I was crazy.
While I thought I was saying, "Kris! Wake up! Someone is knocking at our window! Attack!", it probably came out like "Kris! Ooohh my god, oh my god. Window. Ryan. Where's my pants? Get up!"
At this time we're both up. He looks out the front window and sees a Lexus parked outside the front of our house. Of course he got out the zoom lens to get a pic of the license plate and the kid.
He said he was a white male (don't you love when it's crime related we get all technical, I guess the cops don't appreciate when we say, 'some white dude'), wearing a black hoodie, shorts and socks with sandals. This immediately threw Kris off track already. He hates when people can't decide what season they want to wear. He has major fears that the girls will grow up and be these teens that he sees wearing a sweater, shorts and Uggs. He quietly yells under his breath when they walk by, "Make up your damn mind already, are you hot or are you cold?" Ahhh, I love it. He also hates when I wear a spring short dress with jeans underneath. I love to do it, and it drives him nutty.
Anyways, all I saw was a dude in a black hoodie. If I had to give a description, it would have just been a floating hoodie. I was too scared shitless to really look at them. For fear they would see me, and then when they see me on the street, they would recognize me, lock eyes with me and then take me down, because I was that lady that dared to look them in the eye when they were breaking into my house. It's all too much really. You can't put a person with a wild imagination in these situations. It just gets lunatic. I'm having palpitations right now just thinking about it. Where did I put my pacemaker?
The 911 lady stayed on the phone with me. It was great. It was probably the most boring 911 call of her life. She's probably with her 911 friends right now at Starbucks, talking about the chick who called because someone was knocking at her window. But I do appreciate it.
I did put some clothes on in the midst of the madness in case you were wondering. It was all in a rush, and I put my dress on inside out. I'm sure I had black eyeliner smeared up to my eyebrows, and I'm sure my hair was a mess. But I didn't feel like I looked crazy.
Do you ever have those moments where you are walking around all day, thinking you look like the cat's meow, and then you finally are at a mirror and you scare yourself. 'Holy crap! Who let me wear tangerine lipstick? What was I thinking?" That's what I felt like as I was talking to the sheriff. I felt relatively put together. But then halfway through, I realized my tag on the side of my dress was on the outside. I didn't even want to think of my hair. So my moment happened.
What I thought I looked like as I was talking to the po-po, and what I actually looked like. I scared the crap out of myself when I finally went to the restroom and looked at the mirror. Yipes! They must have thought I had a seizure in my sleep. I looked a mess!
At any rate. We are safe, and the girls slept through the whole thing. At least I don't have to worry about having trouble going to sleep tonight. I've been up for a while now.