He was away, and was supposed to be staying overnight.  As I always do when he’s away, I battened down the house….Alarms set?  Check.  Doors chained?  Check.  Phone on the bedstand?  Check.  Knife under my pillow?  Check.  (Okay, so I don’t sleep with a knife under my pillow, although I’m such a chicken, the thought has crossed my mind.) 

So I slept soundly, until suddenly around 4:00 am, I woke up to the shrill screaming of the alarm.  It took me to the count of three to register what I was hearing, and of course my irrational mind conjured up the image of a snarling, smelly maniac entering my home to do my family harm.  (The rational me may have realized that my darling husband had come home early to surprise me, but rational and half asleep do not go together.)  So, yes, I dialed 9-1-1 as I tripped downstairs, armed with nothing but my phone (dangit!  I should’ve slept with that knife!)   The officer answered before I even hit the bottom of the stairs, and could hear my alarm.  He also heard my screech of relief when I saw my husband fumbling with the door chain from the OUTside of the door!  After half a dozen questions to assure himself that I was indeed not being held at gunpoint by a snarling maniac, the officer wished me a good evening and assured me that, “That’s what we’re here for, Ma’am.”  I was slightly embarrassed, but relief was my top priority. 

My husband just shook his head.   “Why didn’t you call me and tell me you were coming home?!!!” I asked.  His response, “I didn’t want to wake you.”