One.... Two....Two and a Half....

Date Night.  Tina Fey and Steve Carell.  The white, expensive sports car stolen by our heroic couple has hooked front bumpers with the yellow, every-day taxi driven by our totally freaked-out cab driver and they are trying to figure out how to unlock the cars.  Plan 1 is to floor both cars in reverse.  No luck.  I can't remember what Plan 2 is, but they are prepping for it.

"On the count of three!" Steve Carell hollers.  "One!"

The camera pans from face to determined face in each car.  Not really.  The cab driver is still scared half to death. 

Two!  The tension mounts.  The cars are revving.  Camera shows two feet on two pedals, ready now.  Steady now....

Three!

My lights go off!  Really.  They do.  The lights, the air conditioner, the clocks on the microwave and oven, the overhead fan upstairs.  The lights and everything else.  All out.  The hum of appliances and electricity and who-knows-what-else winds down and disappears, and I am enveloped in silence and darkness.

Someone has cut the lines and must be in the house!  No house can lose its power accidentally on the count of 3.  Not possible, I think.

Quickly.  Decision time.  What should I get first, the mastiffs or my flashlight?  I opt for the mastiffs and feel along the wall to their crates in the back of the house.  They make no noise, which is freaky.  My heart is in my throat.

They're dead!  The same person who cut the power lines has killed my mastiffs, I think, struggling with the lock on Winston II's crate.  Finally, his tail starts banging across the back of his crate.

You're alive! I whisper.  I have to be very quiet so the burglar can't hear me.  I don't want him to know my whereabouts.

Both Charlie and Primo start to stir, alerting me to their aliveness, as well as causing me to wonder if I am being a little silly.  That's all it takes.  One thought.

I take a deep breath and relax my shoulders.  I let the dogs outside, feel my way through the house and upstairs to the hall closet to fetch my flashlight.  On the way back down, I look out the window to see several neighbors congregating across the street in front of dark houses. 

I AM being silly, I think.  It was just a creepy coincidence.  Very creepy.

No need to drag this story out.  Of course I join the neighbors outside and learn that a tree limb has knocked down a transformer in our neighborhood, which should be fixed in a few hours, which is exactly what happens.  Right around my bedtime, electricity is restored.  I set my coffee maker for the next morning, climb the stairs, forcing the mastiffs to come up with me, lock us all into my room, in case the non-existent burglar comes back, turn off my lights and settle into bed.  Although I like to listen to Art Garfunkel's Breakaway CD to lull me to sleep, tonight I want to be able to hear all the night noises and be at the ready, flashlight close at hand.  I may be silly, but it's never a bad idea to be cautious, right?

My last thought before drifting off to sleep is, Weasie, you totally watch too much tv.

This may or may not be true, but even so, allow me to be the first to admit that possessing this knowledge hasn't, and won't, change a single, solitary thing.

Comments

[Barbara Johnson]

Hello Louise,
Love your writing!!! Yes, lock that door! I myself opt for a glaring nightlight even after locking every inner and outer lockable door in the house. When it comes to being alone in the house my motto is NEVER throw caution to the wind! You go girl !!! :-)