A Low Budget Horror Movie Kind of Day

Not high-dollar like Scream or The Ring. Not semi-low buget like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I'm talking super-dooper, bottom of the barrel LOW BUDGET - kind of like Attack of the Killer Clowns From Outer Space. You know, the kind that can scare you to death if you are up late in a dark house on a rainy night all by yourself, but proves to be pretty darn funny - hysterical even - by the light of day.

I was having a nice, peaceful day around the house this morning. Aside from Jack being a little on the fussy side because of suspected teething, all was quiet here. I was doing a little painting in the back of the house, listening to some music when all of a sudden, I heard a loud noise - kind of like the sound the washing machine makes when it stops, only louder. I shrugged it off, as I was washing a load of towels, and figured that was probably what I heard. A couple of minutes later, I heard a similar noise. Realizing that the washing machine doesn't shut off twice, I went to investigate. A couple of minutes later, I returned to my project, no wiser than when I had left. Perhaps a neighbor was outside working in the yard, and that's what I had heard. By the time I finished my painting, I had forgotten about the noise completely.

I took some laundry out of the dryer and went to put in on our bed for folding. It was at this time that I heard a noise coming from the Master Bath. It sounded like the toilet hadn't stopped running from an earlier flush, and this would not have surprised me, seeing as how most every appliance in our house has some kind of quirk. I opened the bathroom door, only to be confronted with a lot of steam and the realization that the shower was running full blast and I had not been in that bathroom all day and OHMYGOSH I am the only one home besides Jack who is too little to shower and who was peacefully sleeping in his room at the moment anyway.

Now, at this moment, my brain did a very strange thing. It immediately split into two different coherent trains of thought, both of which were running simultaneously through my head.

One thought told me beyond the shadow of a doubt that the earlier noises I had heard were someone breaking into the house and now they were in the bathroom using a running shower as a ruse to get me in there to shoot me dead and take my baby. As a person who fancies criminology and is fascinated by the criminal mind (Yes, I've read nearly every article at The Crime Library.) this idea seemed completely feasible and even somewhat likely based on what I knew of psychopathic behavior. Plus, there have been a lot of break-ins in neighborhoods around town lately that are just as peaceful and quiet as ours.

My second train of thought told me that I must be suffering from some sort of Schizoaffective disorder - where I entered into a dissociative fugue state and turned the shower on without my Current Self (the self that had just discovered the shower running) knowing about it. Sometimes, I realize that all my training in Social Work and Psychology was not necessarily a good thing.

Nevertheless, I stood there (for what felt like 10 minutes but was probably 10 seconds) completely immobilized by fear, knowing full well that my Obsessive/Compulsive self had not only locked all our doors after Phillip left for work this morning, but had checked them twice since then. So, did that mean mental illness was my logical conclusion? For the next ten seconds, I replayed the morning in my head, knowing that I could account for my whereabouts for every minute of my day so far, which made me feel a tiny bit better about an imminent trip to the Funny Farm. However, that pointed back to a gun-weilding madman standing soaking wet in my shower. I really was not liking my odds at this point.

When I was able to move my feet again, I quietly closed the bathroom door, grabbed the phone and called Phillip. After quickly and quietly explaining the situation to him, he calmly said to me, "Get Jack and get out of the house. NOW. I will be there as quickly as I can get there." Then he hung up. So, still in my PJ's, I grabbed a still-sleeping Jack, two purses (because I didn't know which contained my keys) and ran to the car.

For the next 15 minutes, I shakily drove around the neighborhood waiting for Phillip to arrive. It should have taken him 25 minutes to drive all the way from his office in LaVerne, but he apparrently broke all previous land speed records to get here. While driving, I irrationally panicked again, fearing that perhaps I had had another seizure earlier (the first, last ond only one I've ever had occurring 7 years ago) and upon my waking had turned on the shower and OH NO here I am driving and I don't have my seizure medication, nor a glass of water. So, I went back home and parked the car across the street just as Phillip pulled up.

*I should stop here and save myself the embarrassment that is the end of this tale. However, it seems as though my blog has become a place where I can openly make fun of myself and allow all of you to laugh with me. ( I said with me, not AT me)!*

Phillip bravely entered the house, and returned outside after only about 30 seconds. I noticed that he was laughing.

As it turns out, we have a lovely wire mesh basket that is suction-cupped to the back wall of our shower. This basket holds every soap and shampoo known to man, plus a couple of razors and a loofah. Evidently, the poor basket had gotten tired and lost it's suction on one side, spilling bottles out one at a time (hence, the multiple noises I heard). It would seem that one of the larger bottles (I'm betting on my bottle of Dove AromaTherapy Body Wash) hit the faucet and turned the shower on.

The good news is - Jack and I are still alive. And I am not mentally ill.
The bad news is - Some people might like to argue me on that last point.