A Freaky Story for my Blog-iversary

As promised, in light of my recent golf ball incident, I am going to recount one of the freakier things that has happened to me in recent memory.

The year was 2006.  It was late August.  I was in a mad rush to get the house whipped into shape for Emma's 6th birthday party.  We had tons of food, an inflatable princess castle bounce house, and her entire first grade class was invited.  It was the day before her party.  I was a cleaning banshee.  The house was pretty much spotless inside, so I slipped out the front door to pull weeds in the flowerbed while 3 year old Luke was watching "Dora the Explorer."

I wasn't outside long before the August heat started getting to me.  I guess it must've roasted my brain, because I forgot to lock the deadbolt on the front door when I came in.  (I NEVER do that.  NEVER!)  I showered and dressed, then Luke and I headed over to the elementary school to pick up Emma.  We were excitedly chattering about her party and preparing to go buy some Capri Suns for the shindig when my cell phone rang.

It was our security system people calling to tell me that our alarm was going off.  The lady told me that our front door seemed to be ajar.  It hit me at that moment that I had not locked it.  It wasn't a particularly breezy day, but I convinced myself that the door must have blown open.  She asked me if I would like for the police to come check out the premises.  I told her that I thought that might be a good idea, since I really wasn't confident in my theory at all.

I raced home at breakneck speed.  I was shocked when I saw a truck parked right in front of the house.  Instead of pulling into the cul-de-sac to wait for the policeman (like a logical person would've done), I pulled up the driveway and blocked the truck in.  In my mind, there was no way these people were leaving my house with Emma's birthday presents and whatever other spoils they'd found in my house.

Again, defying all logic and reason, I told the kids to stay in the car--I WAS GOING IN.  (Don't ask me why.  To this day, I still don't know what was going through my head.)  I rolled the windows down a little for ventilation,  took my garage remote off the visor, palmed my cell phone, and locked the doors.  (I don't know if I thought I could do some James Bond roll-under-the-garage-door-move if they chased me or what.  I was not firing on all cylinders at that point.)

As I stepped through the front door into the foyer, I spied two men walking across the upstairs balcony.  One of the men was young and muscle-bound and the other was old and arthritic.  I remember having the conscious thought, "I think I can take the old one." 

I screamed at the top of my lungs, "What are you doing in my house???"  As they tried to answer and come down the stairs, I yelled, "Don't move!"  I ran to the control panel for the alarm and punched in the code with trembling hands.  I ran back and faced them down and yelled again in my meanest (quivering) voice, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?"

The younger of the two started down the stairs.  I pointed my phone at him and shrieked, "Don't move!"  He stoppped and asked if this wasn't the Reese residence.  I shout-said, "No, it's not.  [Voice cracking]  Why are you in my house!?!?"

Turns out these guys were carpet installers.  They had the wrong address (no kidding) by a long shot.  When they arrived, they rang the doorbell.  When there was no answer, they called Mr. Reese at work and asked if they could get in to measure for the carpet in the master bedroom.  He told them to go on in--the front door was unlocked and the alarm wasn't on.  So when they went in and the alarm sounded, they tried to call the homeowner back, but he didn't answer.  So they went on in to do their measuring.  This is where I came in.

Admittedly, they were really apologetic about the whole thing.  It took me quite a while to get back to a place of rational thought.  When the policeman FINALLY arrived, he questioned them and sent them on their way.  Then he turned his attention to me.

I received quite a chewing out about how I could've been hurt or worse if they had been actual bad guys and how I should've waited on him to get there.  (Get there faster next time, buddy!)

The party turned out great and I had an entertaining story to tell.  That was definitely a memorable birthday party for me!

Happy 1 year blog anniversary to me!  Who's bringing the cake?