Our old house was full of leaks, noises, pets, kids and their friends. We never worried much about burglars because our neighbors' houses were much more attractive targets. They also had big stockade fences so no one could see the burglars working on the doors and windows.
One night, though, there was a really loud noise that could not be ignored. Our daughter and I woke up and went creeping around in the dark, toward the noise. Not too smart, but I grabbed a shovel and she grabbed a tennis racket, just in case of trouble. (I told you we had been sleeping.) Didn't see a soul, except for a couple of sleeping brothers. Just then we saw headlights on a car, and it was backing out of our driveway. We were crazed with courage by now, so we ran out the back door and chased it down the street. Then we noticed it was slowing down to toss papers in everyone's driveways. There we stood in pajamas, wondering what in the world we were thinking. "Here, Mom, I'll serve him up with my backhand and you swat him with the shovel."
It's easy to see why I don't want guns in the house. The noise was ceiling tiles falling into the washing machine. An everyday occurrence.
1 comment:
Good post! I could see this happening with my daughter when things go bump in the night.
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