Outnumbered Two to One

This week’s Spin Cycle over at Sprite’s Keeper invites participants to dig through their bloggy archives for their favorite “undiscovered” blog post - a hilarity inducing work of genius that never saw the light of day. I was weeding through my first posts and realizing none of them really fit the bill, that and the fact that I do a lot of complaining about my feral children and their noise capacities. Surprising, no?

I chose the following blog post because it offers a little insight to my neurosis, and because when I wrote it I think I had a total of three readers. So why shouldn’t the other seven of you enjoy the same reading pleasures? This originally ran in early August. I’d only been blogging for two months and this particular post garnered a grand total of 17 hits. Please keep the snickering to a minimum.

Anyway, I give you…

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For an Added Bonus Paranoia

Our neighborhood has recently seen a rise in thefts. My mother-in-law, who lives on the other side of our block, had someone sneak into her yard last week to rummage through her storage shed in the late night hours. This makes me a little nervous, especially when my dear husband is on shift and I’m alone with the kidlings.

Usually when I’m out for the day and I know I’ll be back after dark, I’ll leave some lights on before I lock up the house. The dogs are home, so for the most part, I know they’ll keep the home front safe and secure. Unfortunately, the fact that my hormones are staging some sort of revolt, makes me a little scatterbrained this particular phase of the lunar cycle. Which means I forgot to lock the deadbolt this afternoon when I left for my mother’s house.

I only became aware of this fact when I tried to unlock the door this evening after our return, but since I couldn’t remember forgetting, I immediately envisioned a different scenario. One in which some sadistic, mentally unstable, one-eyed, cat burglar entered my house, befriended my dogs, then proceeded to lie in wait for us in the semi-darkened house, possibly eating my last oatmeal pie and leaving only a single lock engaged on purpose just to mess with my head.

Ridiculous? Maybe. But that didn’t stop me from turning on every light in every room with my diaper bag held aloft in case I had to bash the one-eyed cookie thief in the face while the dogs brought up the rear.

It’s all in a days work for a tired, hormonally unbalanced matriarch. The fortress was secured. My oatmeal pie inventory was complete. And the cat burglar was spared a humiliating defeat. All was right with the world.

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Really, how much damage was I going to do with a diaper bag? That cat burglar would have totally kicked my ass.

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