Since we live in the middle of nowhere, I spend 60% of my day imagining "today will be the day the murderers and rapists pick my house to attack." In this macabre fantasy, I envision how I will get Baby Boy to safety while finding the one spot in the dining room where the cell phone actually works before my grim demise.
It never ends well.
Today, I was in the kitchen in my bra (leopard for all you FB bra color-posters) and out of the kitchen window I see eyes from a black sweatshirt staring at me. Heaven knows where the adrenaline rush came from but in seconds I had Baby Boy thrust into the pantry (the low-shelved cookies kept him quiet) while I wielded a serrated bread knife at the gaping attacker.
It was all very Mr. and Mrs. Smith--without the Brad Pitt and fabulous breasts part.
Unfortunately, I don't think Webber Oil will be delivering to us again anytime soon.
At least we pay our bills on time and the stunned delivery man got to see my fabulous new bra.