Scaredy Cat

Okay, so first of all, let me tell you that I'm not a big scaredy cat when I'm at the house by myself.  Sure, that time I was in the shower and Mitch came in and licked my leg I screamed a little.  Sure, I occasionally think that a ghost is messing with my hair or swiping cupcakes.  I exercise caution when I'm home alone--you know, by locking the doors and refraining from dancing naked in front of the windows--but I usually feel pretty safe. (And I sometimes daydream about how I would defend myself against a would-be murderer.  Three words: cast iron skillet.)

But here's the thing.  In the last two days, Matt and I watched all of season 4 of Dexter.  I won't spoil anything for you, but season 4 features, I believe, the creepiest, most disturbing killer of all time, and he's played by John Lithgow. 

Creepfest.

Horrible creepfest.

3rd Rock from the Sun will never be the same again.

Since we started the season I've not only been having bad dreams about being murdered in a bathtub, but I've also been scared to be at home by myself.  It's been years since I've been afraid to walk into a dark room, but I find myself rushing to get a light turned on, releasing a sigh of relief when I don't see a murderer in the bedroom, and then checking around to make extra sure that there's no murderer.  I've refused to close the shower curtain (something I nag Matt to do) because I'm afraid of the murderer hiding in the bathroom.

I tried to watch the Real Housewives of D.C. to wash the Dexter out of my brain, but it didn't work. (In fact, it just made me wish John Lithgow's character would head to D.C. to keep on keepin' on.) I listened to music, but that just made me more afraid that the murderer would be able to enter the house unnoticed. 

Guess I'll just be sleeping with a cast iron skillet under my pillow for the next few nights.  That sounds comfy.  (But it beats the hell out of being murdered in a bathtub.)