It is 10:16 pm on Sunday night. The events I'm about to relay happened approximately 8 minutes ago.
Blair and I were in bed. Blair was asleep but I'd been reading and had only just turned out the light. (Side note: I didn't realize Blair was asleep as he'd grasped my hand underneath the pillow once I lay down, a small gesture I found touching until--as I was soon to realize--it was purely reflexive or, perhaps knowing me and my personality, unconsciously defensive on his part.)
I was drifting off to dreamland when BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. Pounding on our door jerked my head up off the pillow. I didn't even have time to form the mental question of "Who is that?" before our doorbell started ringing.
"Blair! Someone's at the door!"
I shook him as the pounding and doorbell ringing continued. "Blair!"
He maybe-kinda-sorta gave a snuffle like he was thinking about waking up. Forgive me, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I kicked him.
That got his attention. He sat up as I turned on the light. "Huh? What?"
"Someone's at our door!" I was already heading toward the front door as he searched for his robe. I flipped on the hall light.
"Who is it?" I called.
"Madison police department!"
I looked out the window and saw a squad car, headlights blazing. I peeked out the front door and there was a uniformed cop standing there. I know you're not supposed to just open the door but rather ask for ID and call it in but I didn't do any of that. It's ingrained in us to just open the door to authority, is it not?
I opened the door.
"Did someone here call 911?" asked the cop.
The cats have been feeling ignored lately but no, they wouldn't dare.
"No, we were in bed," I said. Blair appeared by my side about this time, still looking faintly confused. He may be the God of Dawn but he's not at the top of his game at night.
It seems the cops traced an AT&T cell phone 911 hang-up to our location. "It could have been someone driving by and this is just the location it was pinned at," the officer explained. He apologized for waking us up, called in that everything was fine at this locale, and was gone.
"I was asleep," said Blair, climbing back into bed.
"Good to know I could be murdered next to you and you probably wouldn't wake up," I remarked. "I feel so safe."
"Please quit talking," said Blair. "It's bedtime."
"How can you sleep now?" I asked. "I'm wired."
A small snore was my only response.
I lay there about 30 seconds before realizing sleep was out of my grasp. That's where having a blog to record the minutia of my life comes in handy. It gave me something to do.
Sweet dreams, everyone. Hope the bedbugs--and the random police interlude--don't bite.