Last night, I heard someone push open our bedroom door, and instantly woke up. There was a man dressed in black standing over my bed, pulling out a gun. I immediately started trying to figure out how to reach forward for the bat that we keep under our bed and arch back to protect Rob at the same time. The man took a step closer. I screamed, and continued to do so for a long time, at the top of my lungs, loudly, and for a very long time.
Rob woke up, and for some reason, he assumed I was screaming because I had one of the dogs standing on my face. His reaction was to pounce on top of me, pinning my head back to the pillow with his ENORMOUS rib cage. This was to… protect me? If I had a 60 pound dog on my face, would it help to have a 200 pound Jew there, too? With his hairy chest all up in my nose? Squishing me?
He started screaming, which made me scream even more.
So we’re laying there, shrieking at each other, he’s squashed on top of me, the dogs have been woken up and are going nuts and we’re about to be shot to death.
Rob slammed on the light we have attached to our bed, and, of course, there was no man with a gun; it was a shadow from the hall closet door being left open. I let out one last scream anyhow, and then so did Rob. (Sidenote: listening to the man I love more than anything else in the world scream in terror is one of the most terrible sounds I’ve ever heard. Even when I’m hearing it through his barrel chest, which was still encasing my poor head.) When he finally got off me, we looked at each other, I realized everything was fine, and I burst into tears; the kind of big, heaving sobs that take you beyond far beyond “ugly cry” and make it impossible to get a proper breath. He held me until I quit blubbering, and then we switched places so he was closer to the door, and I fell back to sleep.
It’s been a long few days. I’ve been freaked out about work stuff; I have three deadlines piled on top of me and I’m stuck about “the next step” in two of the three projects I’m working on. I feel like I’m hurtling towards disaster because I take everything too seriously, and I’m a little out of my element with what I’m doing.
The whole Benoit situation dropped the mood around here quite a bit. To say “Rob is into professional wrestling” is putting it mildly; Benoit was one of his favorite wrestlers, and he took it pretty hard. Of course, with the details of today coming out, it’s only gotten worse.
I need to relax. It’s only Tuesday; at this rate, I’ll be heart attacked by the weekend.