The prowler ~ A true story

You might say that I have been a bit of a worry-wart lately.

Just last week, I did an online search for sex-offenders in my neighborhood as well as pretty much every other person's neighborhood.

I have a tendency to stress about this sort of thing. But I am usually able to remind myself that things will be ok, and that we are safe.

Such was not the case this morning.

I was in my pink bathrobe. Scotland was leaving for work, and I was standing there eating toast in the kitchen. Lil Sugar pie was at my ankles, thanking me profusely for accidentally dropping a teaspoon of butter on the floor. I was looking out my kitchen window into my backyard.

I saw someone in the alley way behind my house. And as I watched, they lifted a pair of binoculars to they eyes and peered at my house.

Horrified. Frozen with fear. Rooted to the spot.

Then they ducked down behind my five foot fence, and a second later, I saw my neighbor's fence moving. And then, all sorts of calm and nonchalant, they walked back past my fence in the direction that they came from.

My mind was racing.

Who was that! Why were they staring at my house?

Were they trying to get a glimpse of a housewife in her bathrobe???

I am wearing a bathrobe! Peeping tom!

Were they casing the joint?

Are they looking in my windows for valuables

and to check that my husband has left for work?

I'm not safe here!

They are going to break in and hold me at gunpoint!

Hysterical crying ensued.

I called my mom.

What should I do? I wailed to her.

Call the police. Report the prowler.

So I did. I cried as I gave the dispatcher the description of what had happened. I told them my name. I told her about my neighbors fence. She said "It's ok honey. We'll get someone out there right away."

I called Scotland. I cried and told him what had happened. He said he would call our neighbor who's fence was messed with. I told him he didn't need to come home. He sounded like he was unsure as to whether he should believe me.

I watched from the kitchen as a police SUV drove down the alley in the direction that the prowler had headed.

Then Scotland sent me a text telling me that the neighbors phone number was disconnected. So I got dressed, put on my shoes, and locked every door in my house so I could go next door to tell him. I knocked on his door. He didn't answer.

I considered telling the other neighbors. I thought about crossing the street and telling dear sweet Mrs. Adams, our little old lady. No, I decided. I wanted to wait until I had dealt with the police first. I would tell the neighbors after the report was filed.

I thought about calling work, letting them know that I would be late because I needed to file a police report regarding a prowler in my neighborhood. No, I remembered. I needed to wait until after I had worked with the police.

I called my mom back. We theorized on what that person wanted, and what they could be planning. And then my call waiting beeped and I saw it was the police calling me back.

I have to go mom. It's the police, I will call you back.

Hello?

Yes hello is this Kristi?

Yes this is she.

Hi Kristi, this is officer somethingorother from the IF police department. We found the individual you called in a report on.

Oh good *sigh of relief*.

Yeah, that person is a meter reader for the city of IF.

~~

*silence*

~~

I'm sorry, what was that officer?

That person is a what?

I called the police on a what?

*Chuckle* Yes ma'am, looks like they were using the binoculars to check out your electricity usage meter.

~~

*silence*

~~

Huh?

My post traumatic brain was apparently unable to process the information it was receiving. I thought I was having a stroke.

Are you sure?

*pause* Yeah, we're sure.

Slowly, my brain started firing again. Trickles of understanding leaked into the forefront of my mind.

That person was a city employee.

They were reading the meter,

located right next to your kitchen window.

They did not want to see you in your bathrobe.

They were not checking out your house before they broke in.

Oh for the love of all that is holy.

I called the cops on a meter reader.

I apologised to the cop and hung up the phone. I jumped when the phone rang again. I answered to discover another cop calling to tell me the same thing. I let him know they had already contacted me and thanked him.

I called my mom. She laughed. Then she reminded me that there was no way I could have known that, since I am never home at that time of day.

Scotland called. How is everything, he asked. Fine.

I didn't want to tell him. I didn't want to admit that I had just had a major freak out over nothing at all. It will simply reinforce the psychosis that he already believes I have.

I am a nut job.

And just watch, my bill is going to be three times as much as it usually is. Because meter reader person is pissed that some crazy in the yellow house called the cops.

Although I don't know if I blame him.