The Downside To Living Alone
One of the few problems I have with living alone is that while 90% of the time it’s absolutely fantastic, it can go from awesome to terrifying in 60 seconds or less.
On the one hand, there’s the glory of never having to live to anyone’s standards but my own, which is pretty much the best.
On the other hand, the second you hear an unexpected noise, your brain says “WE’RE ALL DOOMED!”
The first night I spent alone in my new apartment, my fridge made some odd sounds (because nothing is level in my apartment and that sometimes causes fridges to make odd noises) and I nearly had a heart-attack.
At least that time I can excuse my instant panic with being in a new place. I have no such excuse for the story I’m about to share with you.
A couple days ago, I was making myself supper and I heard a noise in the living room. Now, given the Bartok incident, I thought that maybe another bat had gotten into my apartment-which would have been fine because I still have the badminton racket and children’s butterfly net I used to get rid of Bartok-but I didn’t hear any flapping, so I wasn’t sure what was going on.
Being the incredibly brave bad-ass that I am, I decided to investigate.
First, I froze and listened for more noise because what better way to face a potential crisis than to give my potential attacker lots of time to get on with the stabbing.
Next, I grabbed my weapon.
Now, imagine you find yourself in a kitchen and you hear a noise and decide to go investigate. What do you grab for a weapon?
A knife of some kind, right?
Maybe a cast iron pan if you’re better with blunt objects.
I grabbed neither of these.
No, in fact, I put DOWN the knife I was holding and grabbed my umbrella.
Sadly this means that I can never make fun of a character in a horror movie again because apparently I AM ONE OF THEM. Not only did I go to investigate the noise, I went with a weapon of little to no use unless it was raining inside.
I don’t know if I thought I was Mycroft Holmes or the Penguin, but apparently when danger calls my first instinct is to prepare for a chance of precipitation!
Shut up and stop judging me.
Anyway, I grabbed my umbrella and slowly crept towards the living room. The hole the bat got in through (I think) last time has since been plugged and is almost directly overhead when you first walk into the living room, so I kept back a piece and bent down to catch a glimpse, figuring that if it was a bat, I’d see the damage to the repair and if it wasn’t, I was still out of sight.
The repaired hole was still not-a-hole, so I clutched my umbrella tighter (ignoring the big shiny knife that was sitting in the dry rack next to the sink because who needs that when I’ve got my brolly?) and crept closer to the living room.
Now, I don’t have a large apartment, so if someone or something was going to attack me, it would probably be over in 30 seconds (Sorry, Mum. I know that’s not comforting but in fairness, any of us could die at any time, so….there’s that.) but my brain told me there was still plenty of time for something to be ready to strike.
I’m not proud of what happened next and I know I was probably overreacting, but at the time, I knew that it was just me.
There was no one else around.
SO WHAT MADE THE SOUND?
I was alone.
I was nervous.
It was just me vs the SOMETHING.
Literally leaping over the two steps into my living room, I clutched my umbrella with full intent to deliver a sound thrashing to whatever enemy might be waiting.
Naturally there was nothing in the living room but in the split second I landed, I heard the noise again behind me.
I live in an area with a lot of homeless folks, so I thought maybe someone was trying to break in my patio doors. I whirled around, prepared to meet with light to heavy rainfall and met….a pile of DVDs.
I was combating a pile of DVDs I had moved off a bookshelf a few days ago and hadn’t gotten around to properly putting away yet that had apparently fallen over (causing the initial noise) and then shifted when I jumped into the living room.
I had successfully evaded the dangers pile of roughly 20 DVDs.
I stood there, limply holding onto my umbrella and reassessed my life.
While I’m glad that there was nothing and no one trying to get into my house or attack me, I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed. I mean, most horror movies have some kind of lesson in them like: “Don’t hide a hit and run”, “Don’t build on a grave-yard,”, “Don’t go to the place where those teens died on a night just like this”. The only lesson I got out of all of this was “Finish tidying when you move stuff around so you don’t needlessly send yourself into an umbrella rampage.”
As far as Life lessons go, that’s a pretty lame one. Besides, I probably won’t take heed of the lesson anyway. After all, no true horror-move hero/heroine takes heed of the lessons learned. If they did, how would anyone still know what you did last summer?
Ironically, just as I finished writing this, the safety bars on my windows rattled a bit and scared the hell out of me.
Maybe I should get a dog. Or a boyfriend.