Aw, Freak Out!

So, being a band widow means now sleeping alone in our big, empty house. That's by myself. No one else around, well, no humans around, we've got two cats that keep quite good company. Annnywaaay. I watched Underworld on TMN last night, and I'm not saying it's the best movie in the world, but it's certainly one that I'm fond of and tend to watch over and over and over and, well, over again.

The movie is about vampires and werewolves, and I hate scary movies usually, but this one is different—and don't hate me for saying this—almost mythical. And Scott Speedman ends up a combination of a vampire and lycan, which makes him, like, the strongest, strangest creature in the whole bloody underworld. How cool is that?

Okay, so then I decide to go to bed, and take Emma Donoghue's latest (I think) book with me. She writes semi-scary Victorian thrillers. And then, just as I turn out the light, I hear, "BANG BANG BANG BANG." Ohmigod, someone's freaking banging on the front freaking door!

I jump out of bed and race to the window, which I know you should NEVER do when you're already scared to death, lest someone actually see you and know you're in the house, but it didn't matter, because you can't see anything anyway. There's a roof in the way. Stupid roof!

Then, I look up and notice there's a full moon. A. Full. Moon. Just sitting there all scary and glowing and sh*t.

Something else crashes downstairs and I'm on the verge of calling 911 when I look outside and there's already a cop car parked across the street. So, of course, my next logical thought is that there's a serial killer on the loose and they've tracked him to my neighbourhood. I stand there wearing my sweatshirt and no pants (my legs get too hot), totally freaking out because I think I'm about to die, which is just silly because no one was breaking into the house.

The cat was banging on the litterbox.

How silly am I?

Oh, and I slept with the phone all night, just so I could call 911. I'm that ridiculous.