So, I am awakened early one morning recently by a strange sound emanating from downstairs. Sounded like somebody rustling through my stuff. It stopped momentarily and started again. I sat up in my bed and listened intently. It was silence for a minute or two so I laid back down to resume my dream whereupon I rule the world. No sooner had I shut my eyes than the noise from downstairs resumed at an even louder volume than before. This time I sat up straight in bed ready to fight. I reached for my “defensive tool” and kicked the covers back. The wife had, by now, awakened and asked what was going on and why do I have “that” in my hand. I passed the cell phone to her and told her to call 911 if she hears a ruckus once I got downstairs.
I walked silently to the top of the stairs and waited. Silence. Wait! There’s that rustling again. It sounds like the criminal is in the kitchen, I thought. I steeled myself for a fight. Creeping down the stairs, I was ready for anything. My stairs are on two flights and when I got to the top of the first flight, I realized I had a new problem. From my vantage point, I could see the living room to my right and just into the kitchen and the den to my left. I could not see both ways at the same time (chameleons can; not that that would do me a lick of good at 2:00 AM as I do not possess a pet chameleon). I kept still until I could hear the noise again and so figure out the direction (and hope there are not two thieves in my house). Ah! There! It’s in the kitchen (I hope). Silently, I moved towards the kitchen. Step by step with my heart pounding like a jack hammer, I moved towards that which could possibly end my life and swipe all my stuff. The noise resumed again and I suspected that I had the drop on this nefarious character. I reached for the light switch and readied my “defensive tool.” I switched the light on in full adrenalin rush for the battle to the death that would undoubtedly ensue.
Nothing. Maybe he was hiding behind the island. I moved cautiously through the kitchen to the island. He was not there either. I looked in both pantries and found them empty. Still in attack mode, I moved into the dining room and through to the front room. There was nothing to be seen or heard. He could be anywhere and could have possibly slipped upstairs. As I stood in the front room pondering my next move, I heard the noise from the kitchen again. I ran into the kitchen knowing that I had him now but that he also knew of my presence. This would be it. I jumped in the kitchen ready to fight! Nothing. What the….?
About five feet in front of me on the floor was a large plastic bag that contained a shirt that I had bought that day. I did not see it until it moved. Then it moved again. It moved a third time and out from the bag popped my orange cat, Toby. He looked at me with that typical cat expression as if to say, “What do YOU want? Can’t you see I’m busy here?”
I went back to bed.