Last night was weird. Bad weird, in fact.
I got home, had a martini (the architect had thoughtfully chilled my glass for me, so everything was all ready for the shaking). We had a drink and then decided that since we weren’t going on a Friday night date, we would go down the street for tots. And beer.
As we exited, Darwin escaped (for the 2nd time that night, I might add – you’d think he had a hard life here or something). We started to chase him down -but were interrupted.
A man about a block away started screaming, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” (and so on) and started running down the street.
Another man came running towards us. Apparently foul-mouthed man had attempted to stab other man and rob him. The alleged victim asked us to call 911. So, I did. And honestly, it worked very well. The only other time I’ve ever had to call 911, I got put on hold. I did not last night – and a cop showed up within 10 minutes.
He took a statement from the victim (who had been collecting money for his homeless church mission thingie). The man was a Vietnam vet who’d been hit on the back of the head during the war. He has a terrible stutter (and a vet degree from Texas A&M) and hand tremors.
As we were speaking w/ the officer, he got a call. Some other cops had picked up a possible suspect. The officer took our victim to the station to have him identify the attacker. The architect & I told the man that we would wait for his church mission’s van to let them know where he was.
So we caught Darwin, threw him inside, and waited for the van (about a block away). And then, then we heard our home alarm go off. Which was funny – because neither of us remembered arming it. So, when the officer came back to drop off our victim (who had identified the attacker, who was apparently mentally ill), he was also responding to our home alarm.
We’ve had a few break-ins in our neighborhood lately – mostly in the empty houses. We’re still not sure what happened – the alarm company said it was our motion detector that went off – and since we were not in the house, we’ve decided to believe it was either a) a ghost or b) the kitties who combined in a whirling dervish on the kitchen counter (as one or even two cats cannot set off the motion detector).
We did not end up going out for dinner. The architect made couscous. I made rum & coke. We watched things get destroyed on the Discovery Channel. (tornadoes! bridge failures! helicopter crashes!)
I had nightmares all night and now that I’m home alone, every noise freaks me out. I don’t want to go outside (and not just ’cause it’s cold). It was such a weird night, what with attempted murders and possible attempted break-ins. Or ghosts. Or tasmanian kitties.
So – tonight, since McCain & Obama will not be standing me up, the architect & I will be having Thai food & hopefully not having to call 911. *fingers crossed*