Royal Fright

Last night, we stayed up kind of late, watching T.V. And eating cupcakes. (Oh yes, motha fucka, I finally made them, and they are GOOD.) I fell asleep on top of The Funasaurus' leg, and woke up to him gently saying, “Uh, baby? I think my leg's been without circulation for almost the entire South Park episode. Could you maybe get up before it falls off?”

And I felt very put out, but managed to not-too-melodramatically haul my sleepy derriere off to bed. We crawled in, and snuggled up and were just drifting off to sleep around 11:45 when the phone rang. Not one of our cell phones, but our home line, which is basically a direct line for telemarketers. (And we continue to pay Comcast good money each month to keep the hotline to New! Lower! Mortgage! Rates! open.)

So anyway, we thought that it was odd that a telemarketer would be calling us so late. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps it was one of our parents, having an emergency of some sort. Although both The Funasaurus' mom and my parents tend to turn in closer to 9:00 than midnight, so that seemed rather unlikely, too.

The call waiting said, “King Soopers.” Now, it's not every day that you get a midnight call from your local supermarket. So I answered, wondering if they were worried, as they should be, that they had sold me yet another faulty package of red velvet cake mix. (Which they hadn't, if you will refer to the first paragraph of this entry.) But there was no one on the line.

Then I got to thinking that it might be a serial killer calling from a payphone outside of the supermarket, checking to make sure we were home so that he could come kill us in some grotesque, B- horror flick fashion. As exhausted as I was, and as sleepy as I had been, I was unable to go back to sleep. I poked The Funasaurus to double check that he had set the alarm. When the heater kicked on I had to stifle a scream. When Tatum fell off the desk I had heart palpitations. And when The Funasaurus began to snore, I kicked him. And didn't even apologize.

I remembered I had had a nightmare, just the night before, about someone breaking into our house while we were sleeping. I was sure it was a sign.

I debtated getting up to put on pajamas, being normally an in-the-buff-type sleeper, but I didn't want a murderer to find me nekkid. But then I realized it was COLD outside of the covers, and I was tired, after all, and didn't feel like getting up. So I sat there stressing about my lack of clothing and the pending attack for another half hour until I finally fell asleep.

As far as I know, no one came in the house. Thank goodness I didn't bother with pajamas. But King Soopers? I've got my eye on you. I'm all about the *69 in the future. You've been warned.