I had only been asleep for a little bit. Once again, I had stayed up too late watching TV. Something woke me. A B? No, they just climb into bed, trying their best not to wake me, for fear that I will send them back to their room. I scanned the room, relying on the moonlight thru the window to show me what was wrong. There he was. The man standing at the foot of my bed. So many thoughts flashed thru my head at once. Who was this?.... Does he have a weapon?...... Why aren't the dogs barking?..... Are the Bs ok?........He's right there. 911 will never be fast enough.....I knew what I had to do. Hit him low, hit him hard, with....my pillow. (side note: I now know why Grandma sleeps with a baseball bat close by) He barely flinched. I wish he would say something. Anything. So I would know why he was there. The thoughts continued as I prepared for the next pillow attack. Ding-dang dogs. See if I ever feed you again. If I survive this, you're history....Lord, please don't let the girls walk in....Why...What?... Why is he wearing my black hat....and my red wool coat.....The Attack of the Johnson Co Cross Dresser???...My eyes started to adjust to the dark...mental note: next time, put my stuff away properly. The bedpost is neither a coat nor hat rack. Stupid massive 4-poster bed that I insisted on....
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