The Morning I was Almost Robbed/Abducted/Murdered

This morning, I came home from the gym, took a shower, threw a load of clothes into the washer, and got into bed for the day. Before I could fall asleep, however, something out of the movies happened.

I heard the garage door open.

My mind went wild. Was Ryan's dad coming over to get/do something? No, Ryan would have told me. Was Ryan coming back home because he wasn't feeling well? Again, he would have called me to give me a heads-up. It MUST be that a creepy neighbor had been watching us enter our code from his window with binoculars, had memorized the code, and was now coming to "get" me. Hmm...no...we only use the clicky openers in our cars.

I grabbed my phone and called Ryan, whispering, "Our garage door just opened! I don't know what to do! What should I do? I'm scared!"

He told me to go lock the door.

I told him I couldn't get out of bed. I was frozen with fear.

He reminded me that there was a copper pipe under the bed. (We usually use it to poke the cat out from under the bed so he doesn't keep us up all night/day by finding things on which to noisily chew.)

But the adventurous part of me didn't want to just lie in bed wielding a pipe. I wanted to investigate.

So I quickly got over my "fear freeze," ripped the phone from its wall charger, got out of bed, and bravely opened the door, updating Ryan on my every move.

It was the washing machine.

WHEW.