Every once in a while, I find myself searching the surroundings of my home for the nearest weapon.
This paranoia inspired behavior is usually prompted by a strange noise in my apartment - a bump, a creek, a shuffle that is unfamiliar to me.
Typically, I only grow concerned just as a I turn off all the lights and head to my bed for the night. Sometimes I awake to a faint fear that someone else is in my house.
I know the drill. In my bedroom, I have an alarm clock and an old fashioned typewriter still in its box. In a crisis, I would throw these at someone.
In the kitchen - I have a variety of sharp, long knives at my disposal. In my nightmare fantasy, I am invincible against my invader, and he is unable to grab my knives and hurt me.
The bathroom contains the strangest defense plan - a wrench, a screwdriver and a heavy can of bug spray. The aerosol can sits atop the copy of the Warren Commission report I keep in my bathroom for random reading - right next to the toilet paper dispenser. Should someone ever choose to attack me while I'm indisposed, I would grab the can of Raid, spray, and then fly off the handle with my wrench and screwdriver.
The living room fails to have its own plan of attack. I suppose I assume this space is too messy to accommodate a madman. I imagine if someone broke in to my apartment, they'd discover a scene of clothes, shoes and bags strewn about and would deduce the place had already been hit by someone else.
I know this whole thing is a bit neurotic.
Who plans or worries about someone breaking in to their home while they're in bed? I think this occasional concern only exists because I am a female living alone.
I do not have a protector. I do not live with someone else who is assigned to the duty of investigating when things go bump in the night. I do not have someone to cling to when I grow scared in my own home.
Most of the time, I'm able to talk myself down from the figurative ledge of fear - insisting the occasional panic is all in my head. After all, if someone really wanted to break in to a home, surely they'd pick something far more high rent than my little apartment. Right?
But then I'm reminded of last summer's run-in with the peeping tom.
I guess a single woman is appealing to someone with unsavory intentions.
Watch out, bitches.
I have a can of Raid, and I know how to use it.
Kate's Random Musings by Kate the Great is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
My defense plan: baseball bat under bed, lamp if I should need to unplug it and swing it at someone. Also, I've thought about kicking through the screen in my window and hurling myself out into the bushes. The only thing I can't figure out is how to get my dog to come with me.
Hell hath no fury like a woman attacked while indisposed. Although, I do think that you bathroom plan just might work. I think you might consider adding "hit the attacker over the head with the Warren Commission Report" as well. I believe it is thick enough to do some damage.
Get an air horn and a can of spray paint. Burglars do not want a hassle, they want a quick & easy gig. He will not stick around while you cover him in paint while screaming and blasting an air horn.
And after he leaves, you'll have the confidence that the police might actually find him since your description will include "man covered in pink paint."
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