Where the wild things are....

Y'all remember Max in the book?  He had it all wrong.  The wild things aren't nice and there is no wild rumpus.  They are all in my back yard.  At night.  Only when Brett is working.  It's true!

One of my biggest fears is staying alone.  Brett and I both had day jobs so we were home together most of the time in the evenings.  So his working at night has thrown me for a loop.  Not only is it quiet, but now I have to contend with wild things.

Let me explain.  I have an active imagination.  Blame it on a childhood where my sister and I played outdoors all day and created all kinds of places and situations.  I cannot not watch any movie that might remotely give me nightmares.  I watched Paranormal Activity with Brett about a year ago.  To this day I cannot have a body part hanging off the mattress.  Those of you that have seen the movie know exactly what I'm talking about.

Here is my neurosis.  I cannot stay in the living room past 9:30.  My comfort level goes on high alert.  I cannot sleep with the closet doors open nor can I open the kitchen door fully to let my dogs out at night.  I turn every light on as I walk through the house.  I won't get out of the bed to use the bathroom unless it is a dire emergency.  But I can do all those things when Brett is home. I will even walk out on our deck to check on the dogs in the middle of night.  So what's wrong with me?  It's those wild things.

On Brett's second night of work I was still very anxious.  That night about 3:30ish I heard the craziest noise outside of my bedroom window.  It sounded like a very high strung puppy.  The noise lasted for well over half an  hour but did I get out of the bed to check it out.  Nooooooo, I was fully convinced the wild things were on their way to get me.  I envisioned big hairy monsters with ginormous teeth and awful breath.  Oh, and they were chanting my name!

A few days later I am describing the noise to my dad and Brett.  Brett is laughing. I haven't figure out if he was laughing because I was making a mountain out of a molehill or because I was making the sound for him in a room full of people.  I shared my theory with these two men.  If I cover myself up with the blankets, move to the middle of the bed and lay still the wild things won't find me.  My dad shook his head and Brett laughed harder and said that's why I have a gun.  I still go by that theory.  I'm still here and the wild things haven't found me.

The wild things can have a wild rumpus in my backyard all they want.  They better not bring it in my house.