My Friday Night Fright: Intruder Alert!
Netflix and champagne disturbances
It’s finally Friday night! It’s the time of the week when I gleefully trade in my adulting hat for a comfy pair of jim jams and settle onto the couch for a marathon of brain-dead entertainment.
The kind of show where doctors miraculously solve medical mysteries whilst juggling romantic entanglements and some obligatory political subplot thrown in for good measure. It’s the TV equivalent of comfort food — predictable and oh-so-soothing.
With my offspring and significant other off gallivanting in the wilds of boyhood, I finally have the house to myself. I have cleverly put my champagne into a tumbler for ease of curling up under a blanket and not having to balance a stemmed glass.
For us non-fancy folk the delicate stem is appropriate for the first or second drink only. After that, you need something more substantial to grip onto.
It’s been about thirty minutes and I’m blissfully absorbed in a particularly riveting scene involving doctors battling the aftermath of a plane crash. When I suddenly detect a suspicious creak emanating from the front of the house.
Quickly hitting pause on the remote, I strain my ears, hoping against hope that it’s not my family returning prematurely to invade my sanctuary. This is my sacred “me time,” damn it!
As the creaking draws nearer, my heart skips a beat. My family’s return would involve enough racket to wake the dead. They are far from quiet and my son’s entrance would result in bags being dumped in the foyer, a frantic hallway run to the bathroom and subsequent overzealous closing of doors.
This eerie silence doesn’t bode well.
I begin to ponder my defence strategy or lack thereof, realising my only available weapons are a block of chocolate and a tumbler of wine. Hardly the stuff of warrior legends.
I may be trained in the art of military combat from my Army days, but unfortunately, my arsenal of grenades and rifles resides in my other pants…
As the noises grow closer, I’m torn between freezing in place like a deer in headlights or bravely confronting the intruder. I’m a strong independent woman gosh darn it! I’m not going down cowering under a blanket!
I start to lean forward slowly and hear my hair slide over the leather couch breaking the silence.
A split second later, my head becomes an unwilling participant in the unfolding drama as my hair is violently yanked, sending shockwaves of pain coursing through my skull.
With a cry of agony, I attempt to break free, only to find myself pinned to the couch by an unseen force. I feel a stabbing pain in the hand holding my hair and see blood start to seep from the wound.
Tears blur my vision as I scream through gritted teeth for mercy, bargaining with my invisible assailant like a hostage negotiator.
Triumphant my assailant releases me from my torment. I whirl around to face my attacker, ready to unleash a verbal tirade that would make my mother blush.
Instead of a masked intruder, I’m met with a furry face and a pair of mischievous eyes.
“You arsehole” I spat as my feline foe purrs innocently at my feet.
“Next time you want attention, just climb onto my lap like a normal goddamn cat, for crying out loud!”
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By day, I am a Corporate Executive and Board Director with a passion for CX, EX, and AI. In my other life, I love to explore my writing passion on midlife trials and tribulations, parental journeys, and sharing my general musings on life.