I’ve come downstairs to curl up on the couch. I can’t sleep upstairs in my bedroom anymore tonight. Every time I drift down towards dreamland, a crash from that big bush outside the front window snaps me upright.

In a sense of almost unparalleled terror, I called the police at 3:45 and they came by to check things out. No, no one was skulking around. Of course not.

That was just over two hours ago. I haven’t gone back to sleep yet.

I don’t want to be that crazy lady who calls the police all the time.

I want to be the lady whose house wasn’t burglarized.

What do you think?

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