I’m a fraidy cat. Like seriously. I can spook myself faster than anything. It’s not uncommon for me to stumble upon a mirror and jump before realizing it’s ME. Pete comes around a corner in the house, and I scream! He has said a million times, “Babe, I live here!” Me: “I know, but I wasn’t expecting you to be right there.” Sometimes, he’ll lightly tap on the door before coming in our bathroom, just to let me know he’s about to unexpectedly {for me} enter.  The bathroom is most often the scene of said occurrences. I’ve spooked the girls, too, by getting spooked. A chain reaction thing. It’s happened at work, as well. I don’t even remember who it was the other day that scared me half to death, and my screaming caused them to scream. And then everybody came running to see who’d been shot. I seriously don’t know why I startle so easily, but I do. Add to this a very over-active imagination, and you have all out neurosis (or would it be psychosis?) sometimes.

Years ago when I was pregnant with Abbey, I was home by myself for a couple of days. Pete was on a business trip. I was in country radio at the time, so my alarm was routinely set for 4:15 AM (yes, the middle of the night for most). Haley was in kindergarten, so on the rare occasion when Pete was out of town, I would take her over to a friend’s house at bedtime, so she could sleep there and go to school with them the next day. Now don’t get me wrong, I love being at home by myself. I just don’t necessarily like sleeping at home by myself at night. I’ll turn the front porch lights, coach lights, and back patio lights all on. My rational is that if anyone decides they want to break in, surely they wouldn’t come to the house with all of the lights on. But then I’ll second-guess myself and think, they might think, “nobody’s home at this house because they left all the lights on and it’s 2 am in the morning.” I know, crazy, right?! Welcome to my brain. But, back to the story….

I was getting ready for bed most likely around my usual time of 8:30/9:00 pm. Although not totally relaxed, I was comfy in bed and hoping I would/could fall asleep fast.

Not a chance.

That’s when it began…..

All of a sudden, I heard this noise that went “click, click.” I froze. Adrenaline pumping. “What was that?” I thought. I waited. And waited. And waited…. Silence. Nothing. After several minutes, I calmed down, convincing myself it was just my imagination.

And then it happened again! “Click, click.”

My heart was racing. What in the world?! My mind began to run through all of the scenarios. Was someone trying to break into the house? Was someone under my bed? Were they in the kitchen? The sound didn’t last long enough for me to figure out exactly which direction it was coming from. But it was for sure a “click, click” sound and then silence.

And thus began the cycle.

For the next THREE (yes THREE!) hours!

I’d hear “click, click” – freeze – and then wait for their next move. During the silent moments, I was trying to figure out why they were messing with me. Were they jiggling the lock on the door? Were they enjoying tormenting me? Who would sing at my funeral? Who would take care of my girls? Who would take them prom dress shopping? Who would teach them how to put on makeup? It did enter my mind to get up and go call somebody, (this was before cell phones, dear friends), but I thought if they were in the kitchen, they may not realize I was in the bedroom, and perhaps I’d be spared.

And then “click, click.”

Silence.

It was so systematic. I was dealing with a real whack job! (Ummm, hello! Whack Job #1, meet Whack Job #2). I’m sure I prayed some in there too. And cussed. But mostly prayed. For daylight! Finally, time won out, it was midnight, and I couldn’t take it any longer. If the big bad wolf was out there, I needed to get this over with.

Un-bravely, I got out of bed, and ran to the kitchen. I grabbed the phone (hanging on the wall) and dialed my neighbors, Bill & Cristi. Cristi sleepily answered, and I think I shout whispered something like this: “Cristi, somebody is out back on my patio! They’ve been jiggling the lock for the last 3 or 4 hours. They’re messing with me. They’re trying to break in. Send Bill over.”  On the other end, I hear her tell Bill to “get up now! Go over to Carmen’s.  Somebody’s trying to break in!”

This is where the details get fuzzy. I’m sure it was the mixture of sheer terror and lack of sleep. Bill came over to my house, and courageously walked right up on the “would-be” bad guy!!! Armed with a bat, he entered the screened-in area, as I stood frozen in the kitchen. The next thing I know he’s yelling through the sliding glass doors: “no one is back here, Carmen.” I walked over, flipped on the lights, and opened the sliding glass doors. I was so thankful to be alive! And to have a human that I knew be starring back at me! As I began vomiting all that had happened the last several hours, trying to figure out the psychology of this madman, it happened AGAIN!!

“Click, Click.”

I whirled around, and there was the Tormentor! Laying right there on my counter. You see, I had gone for a walk earlier in the evening. I loved walking with my Sony Cassette Walkman. It was one of my most favorite things. It was the yellow Sport edition. And it had AUTO-REVERSE! Yep, you guessed it. My walkman had been laying on the counter, auto-reversing for the last 3 hours! I walked over, picked it up and my tunes were still playing through my headphones. I showed Bill the culprit, and I can’t remember if he laughed or rolled his eyes at me. He should’ve used the bat on me! The auto-reversing explained the systematic “click, click” and then silence every 30 minutes or so. It was playing one side of the cassette, reversing and then playing the other side.

Although the mystery was explained, I don’t remember sleeping very much that night. I do remember Pete coming home the next day, and me dog-tired, saying in a monotone voice: “Hey babe, glad you’re home. I didn’t sleep last night. My walkman auto-reversed the whole night. I thought someone was breaking in. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Nite.”

I guess you could say I suffer from FCPE. Fraidy Cat Psychotic Episodes. I’d love to tell you this was the only time. But, there’s so much more where this came from. I’ll let y’all pick which story you want to hear next. The “Deer” – or – the “Toilet Bowl Brush.” Yep.

Does anybody else suffer from this same affliction?! There’s comfort in sharing. So share with me!

btw, I was cleaning out a drawer and came across my beloved Sony Walkman. I don’t think I’ll ever toss it just because of this story right here. 🙂

Happy Saturday!

Love y’all.