death on the toilet

dying on the toilet.

pretty much the worst way to go.

it started by taking my dogs for a walk.

ronnie was out of town and i wanted something to do.

i leashed them up and headed out, leaving my front door wide open.

we came back 30 minutes later and i had to go to the bathroom.

so i opened my front door and ran inside.

my dogs were going crazy.

barking and running around.

i didn't hit me until i was mid-stream (tmi?) that my front door was closed.

oh my god.

someone is in my house.

my dogs are still running up and down the hallway barking.

thought #1: i can't believe my idiot dogs can't find the attacker hiding in my bedroom.

thought #2: i can't believe i'm going to die on the pot.

jesus christ.

i could see the headlines:

local girl found dead with her pants down.

as soon as i was done, i rushed out,

(silently thanking my attacker for letting me finish)

grabbed my phone and made a dash for the backdoor while

screaming for my puppies to follow me.

once we made it outside safely, i felt much better.

i knew that if someone tried coming at me now

i could either scream bloody murder or make a run for it.

so i called ronnie.

he didn't answer.

you bitch. your wife almost died and you didn't pick up the phone.

so then i called my parents and my mom answers her cell phone.

the first words out of her mouth were,

"we must have just missed you, we tried stopping by your house

but no one was there."

sweet relief.

i explained to her that i was sitting on my back deck because

i thought someone was in my house trying to get me,

 all because they closed my front door.

they thought it was funny.

i did not.