Last night, while I was having a good old sleep, no doubt dreaming of some fascinating science I’d read about (‘cus that’s all I should be dreaming about now, right?), I dreamily began to suspect that someone was in my room.
There was. A Burglar.
Though that’s not what I thought of initially. At first, I thought maybe it was a housemate, somehow taking a wrong turn as they’d come down the stairs.
Slowly, through the warm fuzzy blanket of sleep I began to realise I was actually awake and not dreaming this.
My brain did it’s quick preflight check:
- Number of arms: 2 – “check”
- Number of legs: 2 – “check”
- Head – present, booting up – “check”
- Existential dread: 11 – hmm, lower than normal, but, “Check”
- Expected number of people in room:1
- Sense of disappointment at expected number of people in room: “Check”
- Actual number of people in room: 2
And so, I sat bolt upright. I probably said something like: “Wha’ya Ergler cnut!”
What I actually said is lost in the mists of time now, and was probably less coherent anyway.
What I saw was the sodium lamp lit silhouette of a fairly slender man jumping off my windowsill and on to the drive. Where he proceeded to “cheese it” down the road.
Only on hearing the foot steps and running did I realise this was quite possibly a burglar. Fucksocks.
I flicked the light on, looked out the window, then shut it and made sure everything was where it should be (it was). The time was 1:45am. Then, I went on the hunt around the rest of the house.
I would need a weapon.
My weapon of choice? Erm, well, this.
Yes that’s right. Its a bike pannier rack. Don’t ask.
Wielding it one handed, club like, I ventured out into the rest of the house, still not quite sure what the hell just happened. First checking everyone was ok upstairs. The fact my bedroom door hadn’t been opened and that I could hear snoring (sorry housies…) suggested all was well.
Then the kitchen and lounge.
I flicked the light on. Pounced into the room. Landing in what I probably thought was some kind of “tiger stance”, ready to attack. Both rooms were empty, and everything was in it’s correct place.
I then re-discovered my sense of self.
And was a little surprised to find out my “self” was standing bow legged in the kitchen in a pair of boxer shorts with a bike pannier raised above its head “ready to strike”. And possibly ready to shout something like “OOOARGH GERROFOUTOFIT YABASTAD!
I felt a little foolish. I regained composure. Still half asleep.
Looked for the phone number for the local police on my phone. Came up with nothing. And, not considering it an emergency, didn’t really know what to do. I double checked all windows etc, then went back to bed.
In hindsight (non-sleepy hindsight is a great thing) I should have called the old “5-0” then, but didn’t. I went back to sleep (after a second check of windows) and popped in to see them in the morning.
I now have a “crime reference number”, aluminium dusted windows, a possible set of fingerprints, and a massive sense of frustrated annoyance.
More annoying because it’s been bloody hot, and now I have to keep my windows shut while I sleep. (which to be fair, does make sense anyway.)
How was your Monday night?
Amount of science performed/written/thought about today: 0