Bedroom Terrorist

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17 June 2020

This morning I was awakened before 5AM. I haven't been sleeping so well anyway these days with the usual summer stresses of custody battles, moving, jobhunting, etc. The sound of hangers banging around in my closet was particularly annoying. As I had been sleeping with the window open, I just assumed it was the wind. However, the noise persisted despite sleepy me being on the confused border between sleep and awake that is three hours of summer slumber in a country where the summer sunlight doesn't really go away at night. The sound of wood banging softly into other wood reverberated in my head.

Groggily, I stood up vaguely aware of the noise from the hangers and also vaguely aware that I had to pee. I say vaguely aware, because I wasn't really entirely awake and not really entirely asleep. My room was awash in soft light through the clouds, although they had not quite descended to the altitude of my house yet. Looking toward the closet, the vagueness of the noise of the hangers suddenly congealed as my puffy eyes noticed way too much movement in that direction for hangers.

At this point I should probably mention that I wear glasses. Since my early twenties when I noticed that I could no longer see the blackboard from the back of the lecture hall I have worn them. It wasn't until my late twenties that I needed them to pass my driver's test, but they seemed pretty locked in at the level of blindness they attained in my early 30's now. Anything further away than a book in my hand is something of a blur.

Returning to the narrative, we find our protagonist (that's me) staring down at a tabby ball of fluff rooting around in his closet, bumping into low hanging shirts so that their hangers jostle into one another. Evolution fortunately equipped me with a fight-or-flight response to deal with the appearance of a predator in my sleeping chamber, so I did the most natural thing and reached for my cameraphone. Had this been a burglar I guess I would have taken a selfie with him and posted it with the hashtag #burgling. I'd have been able to do this even after he stole my phone because I'm fastidious about by devices doing automatic backups when they're connected to home wifi. As an example, I have a picture I took on a kayak by the dock of a former residence just before I tipped over in it while icebreaking and destroyed my phone in saltwater.

Reaching now for my phone the intruder decided they were camerashy despite having no compunction about breaking and entering. I suppose the latter is somewhat of a solitary act though, and perhaps a field with more introverts than I realized. As I grabbed my phone to catch the cat in act, it alighted to the window sill and was out before I could snap. I only caught the image below of him making good his escape.

I tried to go back to bed after that. I closed my window and canvased the rest of my house to make sure he had no accomplices. This being the second break-in to this house (fortunately I was not home for the human one), I was rattled more that I might otherwise have been. Adrenaline coursing through one's veins is not particularly conducive to sleep. As I lay there sweating under my duvet in the bright 5AM light, I slowly came to the realize that, at least for me, night had ended courtesy of my bedroom terrorist.

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This file last modified 23 June 2020 by Bradley James Wogsland.

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