I Always Fell Like Somebody's Watching Me

     So, I’m laying in my bed tonight, reading one of my books; probably my book of spells and curses. Suddenly, I hear the crunch of snow outside my window like footsteps on the wooden deck. At first, I thought it was my imagination. That’s always your first thought, right? It can’t be footsteps outside my window because it’s -10 Celsius and it’s midnight on a Wednesday. <Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch> My second thought: it was a loud battle scene from Scott Pilgrim vs. The World coming from my daughter’s room across the hall. The crunching continued, back and forth in front of the window. My bed is 5 inches directly beneath this window and blocked from view by just a throw blanket from Ikea. Finally, I determined it must be the cat trying to catch a large rodent of some description.

     That was when I started to panic. Not only would my cat not be caught dead (!) chasing vermin in sub-zero weather, but cats are not heavy enough to make that kind of noise while pacing back and forth on my deck. WTF!!

     I jumped out of bed, trying to avoid being seen in the shadow of my makeshift curtain as I ran out to the living room. I tried to peer through the curtains of the patio doors, but it was pitch black out and Rodney still had the television on. I couldn’t see anything and I sure as hell didn’t want someone to have a clear shot of me through the glass. At this point, I envisioned a crazy, masked man with a shot gun hoping to pick us off one by one as we dared to peer through a window at his mangled face.

     I searched for a flashlight to no avail, but I grabbed a hammer and went to the front door. That’s when I saw headlights reflecting off the back of my car in the driveway. Now, I’m completely freaked because there is no way cats are driving cars around the neighbourhood looking for prey under the windows of unsuspecting homeowners. This is literally my thought process during the ordeal. My heart was pounding loud in my ears and I was losing the feeling in my legs.

     With a sudden burst of courage brought on by indignation (How dare these disfigured creeps target MY home!), I opened up the door to confront the prowlers. If they were in the car by this time, they would have clearly seen me leaning out of the storm door with my hair piled on top of my head and no bra on, holding a hammer. Sure enough, after about 10 seconds, the car begins to back out of the driveway and pull onto the road heading in to town.

     ???!!!

     I tried to catch a glimpse of the license plate, but it was covered with dirty snow. It was too dark to tell the colour of the car for sure. If I could have found my damn shoes, I would have chased after it. Instead, I went back inside to plot my next move. I knocked on the bathroom door. My son was in there trying to straighten his hair for school in the morning. Then, I went to tell my daughter and her boyfriend, who (as I mentioned) were watching Scott Pilgrim. My son thought I was cuckoo, but I took my hammer and a flashlight and went outside to inspect the evidence.

     There were footprints in the snow in front of my house. It would appear that the peeper travelled up to the front door, continued around to the side of the house and licked the glass of the patio doors (or at least got very close), paced in front of my bedroom window and my son’s bedroom window, then went all the way to the backyard to peer into my daughter’s room and the bathroom. I woke up Rodney, who was asleep on the couch and asked him if he had been walking around the house during the day for any reason. He just stared blankly ahead for a second, then closed his eyes and said he didn’t know where he was now and he certainly couldn’t remember where he had been earlier.

     I decided I should call the cops if for no other reason than to have the information on file in case someone else was found murdered in their sleep tomorrow. They took all my information and within 10 minutes, I had the Ontario Provincial Police at my door. The cop was the biggest man I’d ever seen! He had to bend down just to come into my front room (my house is very suited to hobbits). However, prior to his arrival, my daughter informed me that the prowler was probably one of her friends, who had texted while she was watching the movie. The “friend” had texted that she was in the area and was planning on “kicking down the door” for a visit. So, after telling the officer my original story, I had to add that we may have already solved the mystery; I was just waiting for confirmation. My daughter was on the phone with the “friend”, confirming the details of the frosty foibles while I stood seething with Constable Too Tall.

     I was so mad. I was burning with embarrassment and anger. Meanwhile, the “friend” is telling my daughter that she hopes I’m not upset and my daughter is coddling her with assurances that this is no big deal.

     What kind of dimwitted asshat walks around someone’s house looking in people’s windows at midnight on a Wednesday?! (My friend, Mike, reproves me - "Don't they know stalking is reserved for Sundays?) Seriously?! Makes me think of that time a few years back when I was walking with an accomplice after the bar closed and decided to throw chunks of ice at the second floor window of one of her ex-boyfriends. We were cold and drunk (with seriously poor baseball skills) and managed to hit almost every other window of the apartment complex other than the one we were aiming at. We should do that again sometime...