Intruders

One of my main concerns about moving to Las Vegas was the crime. Upon scanning Facebook safety groups, it became clear break-ins were a regular occurrence and one would be wise to take all necessary precautions to keep the bad guys out.

Being very diligent (read paranoid), we started bringing our garage door openers in with us every night, we kept our cars straight-from-the-factory level empty, and we checked our video doorbell hourly. I even thoroughly researched metal door jambs as a means to prevent a group of ruffians from inevitably kicking down our door.

I lived in fear of hearing footsteps downstairs in the wee hours of the morning. If ever I heard an odd noise in the middle of the night, I would just quietly pull the sheets a little higher, close my eyes, and fall back asleep with a perma-grimace on my face, paralyzed by fear. You can bet you'd never see me downstairs past 11:00 PM for fear of coming face to face with an intruder. Take what you need and run, burglars, just keep your distance.

And then it happened. I came face to face with an intruder and it was more terrifying than I had imagined. I was up at 5:00 in the morning to be out the door by 5:15 for my weekly workout class. With groggy eyes and a still dark house, I managed to quietly slip by the slimeball on my way down the stairs. Once downstairs, I flipped a light on and that was the moment we spotted each other. We both froze. He took a few steps backwards, ready to make a run for it, but I wasn't going to let him get away that easily.

I ran to my garage to grab some poison I had on-hand for just an occasion, chanting to myself, "THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!" The pest was right where I had left him, shaking in his boots by my strength and resilience to his fear tactics. I sprinkled poison all over him and left him for dead before checking the premisis for any of his friends that may have been trying to make their escape.

Then I went to my workout class, or what I now call it, Home Intruder Training because a girl's gotta have a strong bod to fight off a home invasion at a moment's notice.

So when I got home I nearly cried as I told Jeff about the cockroach I saw that morning. He was unphased and said, "Call a bug guy." So I did. Like a strong and resilient lady boss.

Listen, guys. Cockroaches are like top 3 on my worst fears list. It goes (in this order):
1.) Needles
2.) Cotton
3.) Cockroaches

They're everywhere. Always. They steal your home at night and take it as their own. They walk all over you (probably). THEY WILL EAT YOUR EARWAX (according to my sister and click-baity internet articles). They can live with their heads chopped off and they can breathe for many, many minutes under water. Are you barfing yet? There's more.

So I call my bug guy. And then I didn't sleep for the two nights before he was scheduled to arrive. Because how do you expect one to sleep with the possibility of a cockroach eating one's earwax?

The bug guy finally came (we did see several more dead cockroaches throughout the week, but the live one was definitely the most threatening of the break-ins). I finally got ONE good night's rest before public enemy #2 entered the scene.

You see, Jeff had offered to make us a nice, romantic fire in the backyard for us to enjoy after the kids went to bed. While we were out innocently toasting some mallows, we saw a dark shadow creeping along the fence in our backyard.

"What was that?" I said almost with a laugh.
"I was hoping you wouldn't see that." Jeff said almost under his breath.
I gave him a slow side eye and repeated myself.
Just as the shadow scurried across our fence one more time, Jeff braced himself as he bravely informed me, "It's a rat."

And then I put our house up for sale.