Embarrassing myself one blog post at a time.

So, I've embarrassed myself here before when describing my child-like imagination, and further, my sheer inability to reason with said imagination. What I didn't tell you then, is that not only does my imagination run wild, but I immediately think that the worst possible scenario is about to present itself.

Example. Let's pretend, say, that I came home from running errands with the girls. And then, I don't know, maybe I turned off the alarm, or maybe I had forgotten to set it. And there was a noise coming over the baby monitor in the kitchen.

First of all, you must know that if I enter the house and don't hear the alarm, I whole-heartedly assume that this is because someone else turned it off, and that person must be sitting in my living room awaiting my return home. I'm totally rational about the whole thing.

Mind you also, Andrew is in Virginia working. It's Tuesday, and he's already put in 30 hours this week. And he just took a pay cut. So, of course, it would be my luck that the Boogie Man would make an appearance, no? Just what we need...we lose our health insurance, and now I've got to fight off a Boogie Man without breaking a bone? I'm not Super Woman, ya'll. Shocking. I know.

So back to the kitchen. I convinced myself, I mean, hypothetically, I might have walked up the stairs to see what the cat was up to. But what would you have done if you could see halfway up the staircase that the cat was sound asleep, only the mysterious noise was getting louder and coming from your bedroom? I mean, if you happened to be in that situation, would you not have run downstairs, called your mother, picked up your children from their dinner plates, and high tailed it onto the porch?

Don't judge me. I'm just sayin'...hypothetically.

I'll tell you what you'd do. You'd do what any logical woman in her right mind would do. You'd call the nearest man. And that's exactly what I did.

Enter Ryan to the rescue! His wife kindly lent him to me for all of five minutes that it took to walk to my house and up my stairs, equally aware of the noise coming from the bedroom.

Let's pause here for a second. I don't mind admitting to you now that this is not a hypothetical story, and here's why. He heard the noise, too. Until then, I thought it was entirely possible that I was just losing my mind. Or maybe it was a squirrel. In my bathtub. That would have made for some good writing.

But alas, it was not a squirrel, and I am forced to take advantage of my own humility.

The noise again.

We stood in the bedroom for a few seconds, waiting to hear it again and choose the next step. And there it was.

The printer...apparently possessed, and running back and forth...loudly because the drawer was open. Loud enough to be heard over the monitor across the hall. Loud enough to convince me that a big scary man most certainly had found his way into my house and was in my closet trying on dresses.

Because that's what he would be doing. Trying on dresses, or maybe twirling around in our abnormally large bathroom. There's not a thing in my house worth taking.

Except maybe the printer.