Hello there.
So, my evening wraps up like this: I’m tiptoeing through the house with my cell in one hand and the biggest knife we own in the other. Just then, the police show up! And they’re not even hot! Good night.Jenni Oh, you want to hear the rest? Ok, then. So Bertine and I went out a-walkin’ tonight, around Lakes Calhoun and Harriet, which makes it about 7 or 8 miles total. I was very happy with the result of this walk, the longest I’ve taken since I wandered around the West Coast last year. I was prepared! I ate some Tofurky Jurky and fruit before I left. And the blood sugar was fine, which is good since it’s a constant worry nowadays. And my hip didn’t bother me. And the walk was super-easy. Not worn out at all. So I’m feeling really good about this 60-mile thing. We were on the path at Lake Calhoun, talking about something boy-related, I’m sure, and next thing she knows I’m wandering off and she’s yelling that I’ve gone astray. But no! I was heading for the guy with the banjo. A guy playing the banjo on a bench at Lake Calhoun. I mean, that’s the coolest thing I’d seen in maybe an hour. Anyway, banjo dude seemed pretty happy to have some girl running up to him, yelling, “HEY, BANJO DUDE!”, so he offered to teach me. And much as I wanted to learn to play the banjo and start my very own one-girl bluegrass band, I had walking to do. So we continued on. At Lake Harriet, we found cameras on a bench! So we took our pictures and left them. The lake was chock-full-o-ducks, too. Those ones I discovered last year when I was a world-famous naturalist, if you recall. Apparently, they’re wood ducks. And they make a creaking noise at each other which, roughly translated, means, “Let’s get it on.” So then dinner, and I didn’t feel like eating much, which is unusual. Luce, you know? It must have been an off day. So I dropped Homie off at her vehicle and came home to find Heather’s car gone and light in my yard, and these things didn’t match up at all. Because if Heather was not at home, then the light should be confined to my house, behind the closed door. Which it wasn’t. Closed. I stood by my car for a while, looking inside. Then I walked up the driveway, still looking. Then I stood out there and called Heather, and she was at April’s. Then I became significantly more concerned about the fact that the front door was standing wide open with three panicked cats staring out at me in the dark. So I did the smart thing, which was to go inside. Armed with my cellphone (with Heather on the line, having been warned to hang up and call the police should I scream or disappear) and a butcher knife, I explored the upstairs of my house. I even checked all the closets and the shower, much as I really didn’t want to. Then I stood at the top of the stairs and peered into the dark and decided there was no way in hell I was going down there. I figured that there was probably no one in the house, since our computers were sitting here all unstolen, and if someone was lurking wanting to rape and/or kill me, they’d have shut the door so as not to alert me to their presence. But you never know with psychopaths, so I kept the knife nearby and figured I’d have time to run when I heard them coming up the stairs. Note to murderers: there is NO way to come up those stairs silently, so please choose another route if you wish to be successful in your felony attempt. So I sat down here and was telling Scotty and Bertine about my scare, and then I heard a noise downstairs. I called the cops but quick, feeling like a very, very dumb girl. And then in the five minutes between the call to 911 and the near-heart-attack I had hearing someone poking around outside before realizing it was the po-po, I cleaned the house. I was embarrassed to be hosting the authorities with the place in such a state. They didn’t seem to mind. Cop #1 wandered in, pointed at the giant knife on the table, and said, “What’s that?” I said, “That’s my protection!” So, cops and such and not a single murderer in the entire house. Oh well. You can’t have it all.