no wifi, no safety.

dogsitting tends to put quite the hamper on my internet accessibility.

…well, scratch that. forgetting to text the family for their wifi password and leaving my laptop at home actually does that.

i finally got online, though!
but not after being nearly abducted first.

i watch this family’s house probably every other month and never experience anything strange. in fact, i basically watch half of this city’s houses, animals, and kids, and always feel reasonably safe. it once crossed my mind once that if a burglar saw my car at the house, he could see its occupant status and decide not to break in… OR… he could see my car at the house, see my 20-something self get out of it and no one else go into the house, and be like “oh shit, this will be a cake walk.” i won’t be of much use defending the house, then.

then i remembered only people in white suburbia need house and dogsitters, and relaxed.

my biggest fear thus far comes from the fact that in the family who put up shop before this one had a little girl who died of cancer in the house. that’s very tragic and no jokes to be made on the matter, but the possibility that i have ghoulish slumber parties does not escape me.

i keep the little girl away by leaving the TV on until i’m asleep and turning it off sometime in the middle of the night when i’m too sleepy to care. the night before last was like any other, except that not five minutes after i turned off the tv, someone began banging on the doors and windows.

i went straight buffy. not really buffy summers buffy, but more like harmony buffy, but immediately looking for an escape plan.

harmony

my thoughts within 30 seconds of being jolted from my sleep:
-burglars don’t bang
-someone is here to get you
-i’m unarmed
-ohhhhh gawddfjjdjkdlgkldjgdg
-call 911.

as i’m on the phone with the dispatcher, i can’t help thinking that if someone noticed that i was alone and is here for me, this little chat with a guy wearing a headset isn’t going to offer much protection.

luckily, an officer arrives within a couple minutes to deliver the news that my big bad is a teenage looking white male in a gray hoodie, and that apparently some hooligans are spending their monday night playing ding dong rapist knock ditch.

so, i’m annoyed. what happened to rolling your friend’s front yard or even egging your guidance counselor’s house? i take no saintly award for my high school years, but i feel like i had enough wits to know that if i go knocking on the wrong house, i’m not always going to be lucky to find an 20-something female armed with only a barking dog.

i can’t tell if i’m officially old for hating these kids and siding with the cops for the first time in my life, so i’m contemplating reconciling my old fogey-ness by leaving bags of dog shit on the porch if they come back.

he-called-the-shit-poop-o

good news: Con-Air was on HBO for the two hours i couldn’t sleep, and i got wifi so i can compile a list of relatable nick cage one liners to summarize my situation.

con air

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