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So it's 6:00 a.m. and I am doing the typical "stand at my closet and stare" routine of picking out my clothes for the day.

"Denimn and cashmere? Wool and cotton?..."

And then I heard footsteps on my roof.

"What in the Hell???"

At first I thought I was hearing things or maybe it was crows or seagulls. But the foosteps were heavy like a human.

I froze. What the Hell should I do? The Husband was at work already so it was just me against whatever was up there.

I flipped off my bedroom light and peeked out the window.

No sign of a ladder or rope or other obvious clue. (I watch a lot of Law & Order to know what to look for)

Then I decided I needed investigate further and I did that "Charlie's Angels/Starsky & Hutch" thing where I hugged the wall, inching my way across the room. I even did the pretend gun thing where I stood in each doorway shouting, "Don't Move!"

I really do have a lot of fun when I am alone and somewhat frightened.

Anyway.

I wall-hugged it to the the fire escape door and peeked out to the alley. There were flashing lights and because of my overstimulated sense of stupidity, I pretty much assumed those lights were from a police car and what I heard was the cops chasing the bad guys over the roof tops of the city.

I pictured bags filled with cash - or drugs. Yes! It must be drugs! And I am sure there were mind-bending jumps from building to building and overweight cops sweating bullets and calling for back-up. Or maybe it was Keanu Reeves doing some cool Matrix-like moves and everything was happening in slow motion.

Or just maybe it was SANTA!!!

The footsteps stopped so I made my way across the loft to the front window. Just as I was rounding the corner to peek outside, a ladder dropped and I heard the muffled sounds of men's voices.

"Holy shit holy shit holy shit!!! Where's my phone - WHERE IS MY PHONE!"

I slid down the wall, peeking up over my shoulder to see if I could get a look at who I was dealing with. And since such a dramatic moment called for dramatic measures, I belly crawled across the kitchen floor to get the phone.

And a weapon.

~Note so self: next time The Husband drops a package of toothpicks, don't take his word that he got them all off the floor. OUCH!

I came off the floor long enough to grab a saucepan and a chef's knife. I knew paying big bucks for the All Clad would be worth it one day, that bad boy can crush a zip lock full of peppercorns and I knew it had skull fracturing capabilities.

Now, where was that phone... AHA! On the handset! (A freaking miracle in this house, just ask The Friend in Alabama.)

In one quick swipe I grabbed the phone and was back on the floor. The Plan was to call The Police, The Building Owner, and The Friend in Texas (She loves this stuff). And then keep the Chef Weapons of Destruction at the ready just in case one of the creeps tried to get in my windows.

Just as I started to dial, I noticed the red light flashing on the handset signaling I had a phone message.

And I remembered that I got home so late last night that I didn't even bother to check the machine, assuming I would take the time in the morning.

I had a funny feeling so I pushed the Remote Playback button and listened.

"Hey, it's The Building Owner. I just wanted to let you know that there's going to be a couple of guys around tomorrow to check all the lights and outlets so the buildings can be decorated for Christmas. So don't be alarmed if you hear footsteps on the roof!"

Well, damn. That information would have come in handy.

I will say that was kind of hoping for an opportunity to use the saucepan.

I could have totally taken the bastards.

Posted by Foodwhore at December 2, 2004 10:29 PM

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