Within Danger's Reach
I woke up yesterday morning to policemen going through my apartment with flashlights, talking to each other and calling out, "Hello? Hello? Police!"
It was about 1 pm. I had been sleeping in, my room dark and quiet and blissfully (until that moment) undisturbed. Half thinking I was just dreaming, I unglued one eyeball and peered out through the open bedroom door to see a tag team of officers investigating a crime scene.... my apartment.
"Hello? Miss? Are you okay?"
"Wha-?"
[Walky-talky static] "Yeah miss? Can you come out here?"
...?
"We think someone may have tried to break in. We need to make sure you're alright."
"Uh... oh!" "Okay. It's just...ummm... I'm sort of... not dressed."
"That's okay... you kin wrap your sheet around ya'--we just need to make sure you're alone in there."
Not scared so much as thoroughly bewildered, embarrassed at my dirty apartment, and also, it should be noted, kind of weirded out that there were people walking around my apartment where I usually make no effort to sleep fully clothed because it's hot and--hello!--no one's going to come in unless I let them in... or so I thought. Hmm. Hadn't considered the police. (Side note: Parallel to this, I made a rule for myself to always be respectably clothed when I'm cooking, 'cause what if I start a fire and then have to run out of the house? Anyway.)
Sigh. I yanked the freshly washed sheets (dangit!) out of bed, wrapped them around me, and waddled out to greet them. Yes, safe and sound, as they could see.
One of the policemen went into my room, swept it with the flashlight, nodded his approval, and continued on to investigate closets, the shower stall, and behind furniture.
"I don't understand. Wha--What makes you think someone tried to break in?"
"Neighbor saw your door open. Called the police."
I went around to the back door. No signs of forced entry, they said, but the door was wide open and it definitely wasn't wide open when I'd gone to bed that night.
"Looks like somebody came up from downstairs, because the outside door was open too."
"You know, I TOLD that landlord WEEKS ago that that downstairs door is getting left open, but they didn't--
"You use this deadbolt, miss? You lock this door?"
"Yeah! Um, I mean, I guess maybe I could have left it unlocked the last time I took the garbage out... I must've, right? How else could they have gotten in?"
I guess that must have been what happened - I'd left it unlocked - so I can partly blame myself*. But that door didn't open by itself--someone definitely came up from downstairs, turned my doorknob, heaved the door open (and it's a heavy door, too), and then, apparently, and we hope, turned around and left.
*I hesistated to tell you this story, 'cause it's most likely (and by all evidence) at least half my fault. But I told Laura what happened and she said she's forgotten to lock the door a time or two and just gotten lucky nothing's happened. So I offer my stupid mistake up for your workday reading and consideration - please use it kindly.
Later that day, after the police left, I was pretty creeped out. The police had been searching every nook and cranny because the intruder could have come in and lurked in my apartment, waiting to attack. I started to think of other ways the story could have ended. They could have easily taken my computer, my camera, my TV, my purse...
Someone could have come in, sat 6 inches from my face and studied me while I slept. Or, hell, I could have woken up to a guy straddling me, duct-taping my mouth closed.
Ulghghh. I shuddered at the thought. Then, I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear, I looked in the shower stall, closets, and behind all the furniture again. Also in places that are way too small for a grown man to fit, but, you know, logic was not commanding the ship that day.
Anyway, then about 8:30 that night I went for a walk 'cause I just needed to get out of the house. Turns out that did nothing to help my vulnerable feeling. It was dark out and I was all alone, and even though I wanted to walk to the lake (I still have never been after all this time in the city), there was a huge dark menacing park I had to pass through to get there, so I didn't. I turned around and headed back home, but on the way, this guy rode his bike past me at a distance of, oh, about a foot from my left shoulder, going reeeaaaally really slowly, you know, like the bums do when they have noplace to go, or perhaps predators when they're sniffing out prey. Me, defenseless. 8:30 and I'm scared shitless. Okay, well not shitless. 6 out of 10. Maybe 7.
Me no likey. Bad bad.
But, plus side, my embarrassment at having the policemen see my dirty apartment has inspired 2 days of cleaning.
Question: Tell me a stupid mistake you made that could have ended badly but, by a stroke of luck, didn't.
Big Event of the Day (tomorrow): Oh so many things to finish at work.
Percent Chance: of finishing everything: psh. 0%.
It was about 1 pm. I had been sleeping in, my room dark and quiet and blissfully (until that moment) undisturbed. Half thinking I was just dreaming, I unglued one eyeball and peered out through the open bedroom door to see a tag team of officers investigating a crime scene.... my apartment.
"Hello? Miss? Are you okay?"
"Wha-?"
[Walky-talky static] "Yeah miss? Can you come out here?"
...?
"We think someone may have tried to break in. We need to make sure you're alright."
"Uh... oh!" "Okay. It's just...ummm... I'm sort of... not dressed."
"That's okay... you kin wrap your sheet around ya'--we just need to make sure you're alone in there."
Not scared so much as thoroughly bewildered, embarrassed at my dirty apartment, and also, it should be noted, kind of weirded out that there were people walking around my apartment where I usually make no effort to sleep fully clothed because it's hot and--hello!--no one's going to come in unless I let them in... or so I thought. Hmm. Hadn't considered the police. (Side note: Parallel to this, I made a rule for myself to always be respectably clothed when I'm cooking, 'cause what if I start a fire and then have to run out of the house? Anyway.)
Sigh. I yanked the freshly washed sheets (dangit!) out of bed, wrapped them around me, and waddled out to greet them. Yes, safe and sound, as they could see.
One of the policemen went into my room, swept it with the flashlight, nodded his approval, and continued on to investigate closets, the shower stall, and behind furniture.
"I don't understand. Wha--What makes you think someone tried to break in?"
"Neighbor saw your door open. Called the police."
I went around to the back door. No signs of forced entry, they said, but the door was wide open and it definitely wasn't wide open when I'd gone to bed that night.
"Looks like somebody came up from downstairs, because the outside door was open too."
"You know, I TOLD that landlord WEEKS ago that that downstairs door is getting left open, but they didn't--
"You use this deadbolt, miss? You lock this door?"
"Yeah! Um, I mean, I guess maybe I could have left it unlocked the last time I took the garbage out... I must've, right? How else could they have gotten in?"
I guess that must have been what happened - I'd left it unlocked - so I can partly blame myself*. But that door didn't open by itself--someone definitely came up from downstairs, turned my doorknob, heaved the door open (and it's a heavy door, too), and then, apparently, and we hope, turned around and left.
*I hesistated to tell you this story, 'cause it's most likely (and by all evidence) at least half my fault. But I told Laura what happened and she said she's forgotten to lock the door a time or two and just gotten lucky nothing's happened. So I offer my stupid mistake up for your workday reading and consideration - please use it kindly.
Later that day, after the police left, I was pretty creeped out. The police had been searching every nook and cranny because the intruder could have come in and lurked in my apartment, waiting to attack. I started to think of other ways the story could have ended. They could have easily taken my computer, my camera, my TV, my purse...
Someone could have come in, sat 6 inches from my face and studied me while I slept. Or, hell, I could have woken up to a guy straddling me, duct-taping my mouth closed.
Ulghghh. I shuddered at the thought. Then, I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear, I looked in the shower stall, closets, and behind all the furniture again. Also in places that are way too small for a grown man to fit, but, you know, logic was not commanding the ship that day.
Anyway, then about 8:30 that night I went for a walk 'cause I just needed to get out of the house. Turns out that did nothing to help my vulnerable feeling. It was dark out and I was all alone, and even though I wanted to walk to the lake (I still have never been after all this time in the city), there was a huge dark menacing park I had to pass through to get there, so I didn't. I turned around and headed back home, but on the way, this guy rode his bike past me at a distance of, oh, about a foot from my left shoulder, going reeeaaaally really slowly, you know, like the bums do when they have noplace to go, or perhaps predators when they're sniffing out prey. Me, defenseless. 8:30 and I'm scared shitless. Okay, well not shitless. 6 out of 10. Maybe 7.
Me no likey. Bad bad.
But, plus side, my embarrassment at having the policemen see my dirty apartment has inspired 2 days of cleaning.
Question: Tell me a stupid mistake you made that could have ended badly but, by a stroke of luck, didn't.
Big Event of the Day (tomorrow): Oh so many things to finish at work.
Percent Chance: of finishing everything: psh. 0%.
posted by Becky at
9:27 PM
14 Comments:
I'm sometimes absent-minded, and do things like that all the time.
Several times I have not been able to find my keys in the morning, only to relize that they are still hanging from the lock on the outside of the door to my apartment.
A few years ago I left the iron on all day (it was not an auto turn off model)- I'm surprised my apartment didn't burn down.
By
Anonymous, at 9/06/2006 11:23:00 AM
Yay! I feel better that it's not just me.
By
Becky, at 9/06/2006 11:25:00 AM
You definitely shouldn't feel bad. I think most people have left a door unlocked a time or two. I've done so. I think the important thing to remember here is that you're safe and sound, and while you made a mistake, that's all it was--a mistake. No one has the right to enter your apartment without your consent. It's not half your fault at all in my opinion, so don't blame yourself for someone else's actions! Besides, I'm sure you'll be more careful from now on.
As for one mistake I've made (out of many)... Not a day after I purchased a new car (back in 2000), what do I do but lock my keys in the car. To make matters worse, the engine was running at the time. Don't ask how. Luckily, it was only two miles from my home, and my dad was able to bring me the spare set rather quickly. Sufficed to say, I felt very dumb.
By
gophilipgo, at 9/06/2006 07:14:00 PM
Ha! That reminds me! Becky locked the keys in the car once while it was running, and I was the only one home to pick her up. The problem was, it was like 2 days after I'd gotten my learner's permit, no one was home to drive with me, and the only other car available was the big huge van that I'd never driven. Luckily, she was just at the library, like 1 mile away. But still. I was mad about an 8.5 out of 10.
So that wasn't about something stupid I did, just more picking on Becky. Here's mine. I was shopping with Jon, I think it was when I bought my TV when I lived in CT (besides the point). Anyway, I had a big cart and was struggling to put something from there into my trunk. So we managed to get it in, and I left and drove about 9/10 of the way home, when I realized that my purse was still in the cart, in the parking lot at Best Buy! So I raced back and found some man looking through my purse in the lot. So I yelled "Hey! That's mine!" (Really clever) And he backed off with his hands up in that "don't shoot" kind of way. And he said he was looking for a name or phone number so he let me know he found my purse. (I think he was telling the truth. He didn't look like the type of guy who needed to steal someone else's cheap fake-leather purse.)
And then there's the time I lost my credit card in London and went nuts trying to cancel it while in another country. I found it in my camera bag when I got home.
Becky, your life is interesting. Fun things happen to you. You should write a book.
By
Anonymous, at 9/06/2006 09:43:00 PM
Oh, I remember how mad you were--Whoooo boy. I deserved it though. I should't have made you drive on your learner's permit. I was just too embarrassed to call the police or whoever it was I'd have had to call.
Most people's lives are interesting. That reminds me, I need to write about the Vietnamese nail technician. Soon.
By
Becky, at 9/06/2006 10:06:00 PM
Becky I'm sorry but maybe I'm the only one with a maternal bone in her body who reads your blog, but my first instinct is to call you and yell at you! I'm sure some time in my life I have left the door unlocked, but NEVER while asleep! Talk about vulnerable. I know it sucks but as women we have to be more careful. Please save me some piece of mind and start checking your doors/windows before you go to bed. Otherwise you will get a nightly phone call from me checking to make sure you're safe. All of your other friends here can be nice to you, but apparently I'm the only one who is riddled with enough worry for my best friend to yell at her! These little mistakes may cost you your life.
By
Anonymous, at 9/06/2006 10:39:00 PM
Okay, I just checked the back door. See, I always check my front door, but not usually the back because I don't usually go in or out of it. But I will add it to my list of nightly checks.
By
Becky, at 9/07/2006 12:36:00 AM
This mistake takes place sometime in the early 1990s. My family had/has some property out in the desert we called our ranch; not much is there other than an old, rusty cabin and a lot of open land. We used to go there all the time during my childhood and shoot BB guns at each other, dig up bones of god knows what, and get painfully, wonderfully sunburned living out various boyhood dreams. And I don’t remember what age it was—it feels like 8-10 (old enough to remember but not feel in your stomach)—that I nearly got myself killed. I’m at my ranch and I’m sitting in my dad’s Suburban, passenger seat. It was a typical dry, hot summer day with a big open sky, no wind blowing, and a glaze of dirt on my face. Not sure where the rest of my family was, but I remember I’m waiting for them, sitting there alone in a SUV parked at the edge of an overpass. Not a very dramatic fall like the cliff in Thelma & Louise, but still a cliff that would make for a dramatic death. I get bored so I start playing around with the steering wheel, and naturally somehow managed to pull the parking brake off. The car starts rolling with me in it towards the cliff, and I don’t notice, because it’s moving slowly and I’m sort of daydreaming. Something jolts me into reality and then I do notice, and I jump out and run to the front and try with all my might to push it so it stops. It gets about a foot from the edge and, miraculously, stops. It would have made for a spectacular death: an explosion, jagged metal, smoke rising and seen for miles. Anyway, that’s my mistake that could have gone really badly but didn’t.
By
Anonymous, at 9/07/2006 05:35:00 PM
Holy hell!!!
How did they get the car back on safe ground? Tie ropes on it and pull? Don't tell me someone got in there to back it up...
By
Becky, at 9/07/2006 06:13:00 PM
I don't remember what my dad's reaction to it was. It's one of those memories, like most memories are from childhood, that exist exclusively in a little spot in your mind without reference to anything else. You can see all the details when you close your eyes, but you can't fit anything before or after into it.
The path to the edge wasn't very steep, it was just slightly angled enough so a car without a parking break would start a slow descent towards it. It was painfully close to the edge, though. Another foot and I would have been gone.
In all my adventures at the old ranch I never had a run-in with a rattlesnake, although there were lots around. It's funny how between firing BB guns at each other, being convinced to ride a wild horse, bears/rattle snakes roaming around, the only time I got near to dying at the ranch was death by getting blown up. Oh Becky, the stories I could tell you about my life.
By
Anonymous, at 9/07/2006 08:59:00 PM
Yay! It's Peterman!!! You are missing a really good party out here next weekend, by the way. They are getting an inflatable bouncy castle. I'm gonna be a rock star on that thing. (By the way, I'm writing this from work, at 7:30 pm. Oh, the fun you're missing.)
Hi Becky. I have no real comment here. But I guess I could tell about the time I almost drowned. I had just learned how to swim like 2 days before, and we were in the pool at Jumer's Castle (can't believe I remember the name of the hotel). I was just walking around in the shallow end and just walked off the slope into the deep end. And just kind of freaked out and didn't move. I remember I tried to yell, but that doesn't work so well underwater. Finally, my dad noticed that I was just standing there submerged, and not coming up for air, so he dove in and pulled me out. Oops.
And then there's the time when Erin Verscaj put a flaming marshmallow in my eye on a camping trip. Again, my dad saved me, this time by throwing me to the ground and dumping a bucket of water on my head. Thanks, Dad.
By
Anonymous, at 9/07/2006 09:35:00 PM
Christie says...
When my boyfriend Aharon and I were camping in the middle of nowhere in Oaxaca, Mexico, (in the jungle) I almost got stung by a scorpion (we're talking centimenters from my hand) I picked up a shoe and there was a scorpion on the bottom. Didn't hit me then how close I came to dying or having to suck out my own blood. We were at least 2 hours from any hospital, so, I'm pretty lucky, I'd say.
On the same trip, near the Mayan ruins in Palenque, Chiapas, Aharon and I were camping and it was about 110 degrees. We left our tent for about 30 seconds to go get wet before trying to sleep and when we returned, the zipper was open. SOmeone had opened the tent and taken everything valuable they could find. They stole 20 pesos from aharon's pockets and started to open our backpack, starting from the front back... (it is one of those bags with like a thousand pockets) anyway, they must have heard us coming because they opened every single pocket EXCEPT the pocket with the wallet sitting stupidly on top of everything. It had my credit cards, and all of our cash for the trip. We would have been stuck in the middle of the jungle in Chiapas (on the complete other side of the country). The only other thing they managed to steal was my broken diskman (haha suckers) and ALL of my favorite cds (of course I only brought my favorites on the trip). I was pretty upset, and freaked, but everything was fine... oh, but it could have been so much worse...
By
Anonymous, at 9/09/2006 10:06:00 AM
More.
By
Anonymous, at 9/12/2006 09:53:00 PM
Seriously.
By
Anonymous, at 9/14/2006 11:34:00 AM
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