How is it I’m always buck naked when the craziest things happen? Do you remember the time I locked myself out in my garage and had to make a run for it? I certainly do. It haunts me any time my bare feet touch could concrete.
Anyway, what happened this time around would have made a great story without the added horridness of being naked, but I guess that’s what makes good blogging, right? Being naked when bad things happen? That’s what Blogging for Dummies probably says, at least.
Now, I should tell you that I speak Spanish fairly fluently. That will come into play later on in the story.
So where to begin?
Ah. Yes. The bathtub.
I like hot baths. I soak almost daily in heavenly tubs full of oatmeal or eucalyptus and mint saturated water. It’s my time to just melt away from the pressures of life for the moment, dim the lights, and crank up whatever current audiobook is on my phone.
It was two days before Christmas. A Wednesday. And I was getting to that point where my fingers and toes began looking like soggy tree bark. Just 10 more minutes, I thought as I freshened the water with a healthy dose of scalding water. I was thoroughly enjoying a David Sedaris memoir; life in that moment couldn’t be better. Eh. I lied. It could be better. But that would involve a scenario where Adele suddenly walks in and gives me a private concert while I relax.
It wasn’t Adele.
I could have sworn I heard a man’s voice say hello. It mixed with the narrator’s voice just enough that I wasn’t sure. But I was pretty sure. And my heart leapt.
“WHO’S HERE?!” I shouted.
I turned down the speaker slightly and repeated myself. “WHO’S HERE?”
I could have sworn I heard someone…
“Hello?” That same man’s voice. Someone was in my home. Nobody should have been inside my home.
My heart suddenly was pounding so hard I think the bathwater was rippling the way the puddles rippled when T-Rex was approaching in Jurassic Park. “WHO’S HERE?!” I yelled once more. Again, silence.
I very quietly stood out of the water, slowly pulled my towel from the rack, and wrapped it around me. I was fully prepared to be murdered in that moment.
I lied. I’m sorry. I was not fully prepared to be murdered. If I knew I was going to be murdered, I would put on my best pair of sweatpants, a clean white t-shirt, my coziest of socks, and I would have my favorite holiday martini in-hand so that I could be sipping it comfortably as someone shivved me while I sat watching the last moments of the series finale of my current favorite show. That’s how I want to be murdered. None of this screaming, running for your life crap. Comfort is key.
I wrapped my towel around the bottom half of my not-ready-to-be-murdered, fully naked, dripping wet body. My bathroom door was closed and unfortunately my phone was docked on the bed stand on the other side of that door. I shouted again. “WHO’S OUT THERE?!”
Assuming the intruder was either gone or ready to pounce on me the moment I emerged, I did what every idiot in every horror movie always does. I set myself up to be murdered. I opened the door.
First of all, I can promise you that you really don’t think straight when you are in a situation like this. What was on my mind? My phone, and my baseball bat. The two things I keep next to my bed. I just had to make it ten feet from the bathroom door to my bedside to get them.
I had to pass by my bedroom door, which I knew was open.
When I opened the door, I only opened it the tiniest crack and peeked through, halfway expecting a 9mm bullet to hit me dead between the eyes as soon as I did. There was nobody there. I listened and heard nothing.
Ten feet. Ten feet. I slowly swung open the door, my heart feeling like it was going to explode at this point. Ten feet. Just ten feet.