As a night person, I find I’m more alert later in the evening and I do my best thinking then. After all, it was at 11:30 p.m. when I came up with the brilliant idea of a business suit made out of velvet.
Trust me. It will be big, and sooo comfortable.
So last night at 10:53 p.m. when our doorbell rang, I was awake and so was my husband. I would love to tell you that we were awake doing something extremely sophisticated, like discussing works of art or the fate of our economy, mostly because it sounds a lot better than what we were really discussing, which was what determines how long the smell of a fart lingers.
As we tried to wrap our minds around this puzzling mystery, we heard the ring of our doorbell.
We looked at each other with a quizzical look as we both thought to ourselves “Our doorbell works?!”
In the three years we have lived in this house, we always thought the doorbell was broken. As the loud ring filled our house, we were filled with excitement at the realization that we had a working doorbell. We were movin’ on up…just like the Jeffersons.
Naturally, I convinced myself it was a burglar who was trying to catch us off guard and raid the house when we opened the door.
I looked around for a weapon to use against the insurgents. There were probably more than one of them. The only thing I could find was the back scratcher I purchased for my husband at the dollar store.
It’s made of bamboo and is very lightweight, and the fingers are practically worn down to nubs with the way he uses that thing.
I know it’s a little creepy, but if it keeps me from expending the energy to scratch his back, then I’m all about it.
Armed with a flimsy back scratcher, my husband and I headed to the door for what was sure to be an assault of some sort.
As we stumbled to the front door together, I contemplated the outfit I was wearing, which was most likely going to be the clothes I was brutally murdered in.
I didn’t want my mutilated body to be discovered wearing pajama pants with penguins on them and an Iowa Hawkeyes t-shirt.
For one thing, we all know penguins and hawks don’t get along, and the two animals are incapable of living in harmony together. I was really pressing my luck pairing them together with my wardrobe but hey, I’m a risk taker.
But now, my lazy attitude towards the pairing of birds would be forever memorialized in crime scene photos that would inevitably end up on “48 Hour Mystery.”
And what photos would they show to viewers? I hoped it was my junior year’s pom pon picture. I looked hot in that one.
I realized that I should have been more thoughtful about my nighttime attire. I also realized I should have eaten the frosted cookies I resisted earlier in the evening. I didn’t want my last meal to be some stale carrots.
We reached the door together. Our house really isn’t that big…I just thought all of those things in a very quick time frame, and my husband opened the door a crack. This was it: It was over.
Then I realized that all my memories involved food and was thankful I wouldn’t live another day to deal with that crazy obsession and what that meant about myself.
I flipped on the light to the front porch and the figure standing there was illuminated. I peered through the peephole and saw the teenager from down the street. Matt opened the door a crack, peered out, and asked him if he needed something.
Clearly this kid was here to rob us blind and use the spoils of his crime to purchase video games and crack. Duh.
“Hi” said the teenager in an unassuming voice (most likely masked by the hard drugs he was surely on). “Have you seen a black cat around here anywhere?”
So that was his angle. His way to get in: alleging he was looking for a black cat. Smooth. Well played.
“Are you sure you aren’t looking for a fat orange cat?” my husband inquired.
As if this kid was really looking for a black cat. Sheesh. My husband was falling for this hoodlum’s bait. Not this girl.
“No, it is a black cat. We haven’t seen him in a few days and we were wondering if you had seen him” the delinquent said.
Wait a minute…”we?” He was the only person standing there, so who else was he talking about?
Clearly he had some friends hiding nearby who would assist him in looting our home. Didn’t I tell you there would be several insurgents?
“I will keep an eye out for the black cat and let you know if I see anything” I told the boy, knowing full well there was no such black cat. He thanked us for our time and left our front porch.
We locked the door and returned to our riveting conversation about the pungency of gas, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had just been “scoped out” for a burglary. (I watch lots of “Law and Order” so I know how these things work.)
I told Matt I was concerned this kid was just trying to get a feel for us so he could rob us later. Matt didn’t share my same view of the obvious drug addict.
We went to sleep and awoke the next morning unharmed, our house in tact. Okay, so maybe he was waiting for the next night to strike. That was fine with me…I knew I would be ready.
This evening I came home from work and got into bed, as I didn’t feel well. Matt went out to a movie and almost immediately after he left the house, he called me.
I answered my cell phone, irritated with him, as I was sure he forgot something crucial, like his wallet. Instead he said “I just saw a black cat wandering around the front yard of the house on the corner.”
What?! Could that hoodlum who came to our doorstep last night looking for a black cat have actually been looking for a black cat? Surely not. But alas, my husband found the elusive black cat.
Was it a coincidence? I’m not sure. But rest assured that tonight, I will be sleeping with that bamboo back scratcher right by my side.