Bump in the Night

I have an overactive imagination.

I know, right?

Shocking.

But I can't appreciate my imagination when it most often has me starring as the victim from the opening scene of a Criminal Minds episode.

We see a woman framed in a window, chopping vegetables. She picks up a slice of red pepper and munches on it while transferring the rest to a waiting skillet. She stirs slowly, staring into space as if contemplating the universe.

Outside the window this episode's serial killer waits by the apple tree. We see the woman sit down and begin to eat while enjoying a novel. The killer moves in for the...um...kill.

One of the downsides of living alone - and I don't count the kids in this particular case because as you all know, the kids are not for protection, they're to be protected - is the fact that I don't have someone to rustle awake when I hear a bump in the night.

And there are a lot of bumps in the night.

Logically, I know said bumps are most likely from the fact that the house I live in is at least 50 years old and is on a raised foundation and does this thing called "settling".

But then I start to think of that scene from Kiss the Girls. You know the one. Ashley Judd is sleeping in bed when she hears a creak. Startled, she jerks awake. She listens for a moment and then notices the wind brushing a branch against her window. Smiling, she lays back down and relaxes.

Which is when we discover there's someone in the house.

Cue heart racing.

I'm not totally defenseless. I do have a bat. But it occurs to me that a bat isn't going to be much good when the serial killer gives me an injection of oxycotin in order to move my drugged body to the kill zone.

Needless to say, I've decided to stop watching Criminal Minds and stick with The Big Bang Theory. Geeks I can handle.