Vacancy... with a clean shower.... but unshaven legs.

So... just a note about me.  I am a sissy lala about being alone.  I'm sure I've screamed out several times during my life, "Can you just leave me ALONE?" but I don't ever mean it.  My fear of being alone started when my silly brother would have me get something in the basement and then shut the door to tease me.  (remind me to slap him) Our basement wasn't finished back in the pioneer times of my youth so a variety of interesting creatures lived down there.  The Giant Spider from both Harry Potter and it's cousin from Lord the Rings and their entire offspring lived there.  All of the Birds from the Alfred Hitchcock movie.  Several generational lines from the rats from the Indiana Jones movie (the part when they are under the library looking for the shield).  Frightening enough - all of the pictures of my Hill ancestors are there too - probably the most frightening thought of all.  So now I have this fetish about night times and being alone.  Sure - you're not suppose to publish when you are alone - and currently - I'm not.  But when I am (you'll be the last to know) I usually prepare by sleeping with knives next to the bed.  (ok - so they are bread knives)  Well.... last night - I was alone.... and I thought I would settle in for a nice long sleep... and something crashed in the kitchen.  Here was my strategy.  Call Ashley - she has guns..... no answer.... I only had pens next to the bed... my breath was awful... my legs had not been shaved... and I started having a conversation in two different voices like there was someone here with me.  THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THIS PEOPLE!!!!  I'm not sure how I would kill someone with the pens.  I could write them to death.  My breath and leg hairs may have stopped someone.  But certainly by far... the multiple voices scared whatever it was down there.... away.  I've told Gomer... it's a gun or a dog.  Because if the police show up and they see a pen stabbed person, lacerated by leg hair, sick from mouth breath, and babbling that they heard voices (several types) it might be hard to explain.  Just when I thought I could perhaps doze off after my heart attack... I thought... where are they?   Under my bed?.......  Hiding in the shower?....... Locked in my parents basement?    Being alone - not for sissys.