I would never have bought an alarm system, but since there was one already installed in our house when we bought it, we kept it, and I have grown to find it comforting. When we were moving in, one of my friends, who considers herself psychic, asked me if I was going to be afraid of staying in the house by myself.
“Not at all,” I said. I have been alone a lot. “And besides, there is an alarm system.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean the live people.” she responded.
Wow. Thanks a lot.
We went to Illinois over the weekend to see some of my long-lost relatives. My Aunt Midge was celebrating her 80th birthday. When we got home–tired and sore from sitting in the car for 4 hours–the only thing I wanted to do was turn the hot water on and get into the tub with my hot-off-the-press Elizabeth Smart wedding issue of People. In my hurry, I forgot to put in the code to the alarm system (here I need to insert that there should be two places where it beeps, but one isn’t working). Soon the alarm was sounding, and I got by the phone to wait for the call from the company who monitors it.
When no call came, I started to disrobe and get into the tub, thinking that I had put in the pass code so quickly that the alarm didn’t go through. Bad thinking. I glanced outside and saw a police officer WITH HIS GUN DRAWN! headed for our front door. I was terrified to go to the door–what if I appeared to be an intruder and he shot me? I looked as innocent and non-violent as I could and opened the door asking, “Is everything ok?”
In the meantime, my friend Judy was also on her way to check on the house–the company had called her, too. It turned out that one of the phones was off the hook and my cell was turned off–so they called the police. It is occuring to me that it might be more dangerous to have an alarm system than not to have one–at least if you are as absent-minded as I am.
On another note totally unrelated to this story, this is the first time I have looked at this blog or posted on it in 6 months, and the same number of people seem to be looking at it per day. Wow–that is weird! I’m feeling like I have recovered from the trauma of Paul’s broken femur enought to write again, I guess.