The house is empty as I get in the shower. Halfway through shaving first leg my dog Sugar starts barking in my room crazy like. Crap. OMG. I'm on the second floor. Is it a serial killer? burglar? Did I lock the bathroom door? Have I locked any doors?? I have nothing but my dull razor and tooth brush as my only defense. (yes, I brush my teeth in the shower) I leave the shower running just to throw off my would be killer, grab my towel, jerk the door open hoping the element of surprise would scare him (it's always a him isn't it?) away. Or at least the sight of my naked middle age body might stun him for a split second.
Nothing. No killer. No burglar. Just my dorky dog sitting on the bed. Does that mean she heard something downstairs? Saw a bird fly pass the window? Just to make sure I go downstairs with soap all over me. (not nearly as sexy as in the movies my friends) Doors are all locked. Everything is fine.
You would think that after going through this routine at least once a week I would a) make sure the doors are locked b) ignore the dog c) come to realize that a serial killer is not lurking my neighborhood EVERY SINGLE WEEK or any other week that I'm aware of.
So, I have no idea why I fall for my dogs weekly scare. Probably because in all the movies I've seen and books I've read the first time you let your guard down WHACK. Sliced and diced. But, that's ok. My razor, loofah and I are ready.
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