Because if I was a murderer...

So, on Saturday night I arrive home, only slightly worse for the drink, enter my living room, flick on the light switch and...nothing happens. On, off, on, off. Nothing.

Hmmm.

Thinking it unlikely that both bulbs have burnt out simultaneously, I fiddle with the lamps. Turns out both lamps have turned off and the lightbulbs have been unscrewed.

I freeze. Because I'm thinking, "if I was a murderer and waiting for someone to arrive home so I could kill her, the first thing I would do was make sure the lights didn't work. Then I could attack in the dark."

At this point, I proceeded to search the entire house. Mostly alone. With no weapon. After the basement, my friend joined me. Another tipsy girl. Also with no weapon. I think I figured confronting the killer and knowing he/she was there would be better than sitting around wondering.

We searched everywhere except the attic-- it seemed unlikely to me that a killer would have had the time to make it up to the attic, silently, and pull the ladder up behind him/her once he/she realized I had not arrived home alone.

My friend hung out for awhile, we watched part of A Knight's Tale, and then I was left alone to go to bed. Possibly with a killer in my house. I checked my bedroom, brushed my teeth and used the bathroom (after checking behind the shower curtain and in the bathroom closet, of course), checked my bedroom again, locked the door and went to sleep.

When I woke up in the morning to sunlight and reality...I was still only 85% sure that there was no killer in my house. What else could have happened to the lights, after all? I'd been the last one to leave the house that day and neither of my roommates had returned before I did.

The morning wore on and my desire to hide warred with my desire to pee/start working in my garden (not at the same time). Finally, I got up and unlocked the bedroom door. No one was waiting behind it, slasher knife raised and waiting. A good sign. I went about my morning routine, worked in the garden for a few hours, showered, and got dressed to go meet my family and see the world's worst dinner theater. I listened to my ipod as loudly as possible, to drown out the sound of my approaching doom (it seems I am more worried about the terrifying second before the murder than actually dying...nothing to fear but fear itself...I am so very wise).

I made it out of the house alive. At the world's worst dinner theater, I related my story to my family and my youngest sister said:

"Oh, yeah, my bad. Couldn't figure out how to turn your lights off yesterday. I messed them all up."

Reality- 1. Overactive Imagination- 0.