I live in a 3 bedroom/2.5 bathroom condo alone.
I love living alone because it means that any mess in the house is intentional and I can deal with it if I want, but if I don't want to then I don't. I come and go as I please, cook dinner whenever I want to, have total control of the TV and pretty much live as the lord and master of my domain. It's great.
Last night I cooked a full beautiful dinner for the ear doctor and a couple of missionaries.
After dinner the missionaries left and the ear doctor and I watched Gilmore Girls and the amazing race. (Note: the ear doctor did a lab write up during Gilmore girls. It was his first time watching it and his favorite character was Kirk. Men just don't "get" that show.)
Anyway, he had to leave at 9 to go work on homework with a buddy, which left me home, alone at 9 pm.
I haven't been home, alone, and awake at 9 pm in FOREVER. I decided to get some laundry and dishes done while unwinding and watching and episode of Law and Order:SVU. It was an episode about a psycho rapist who preyed on young virgins. Yikes. It was riveting and freaky and deliciously entertaining. During the commercials, I muted the TV for a moment and couldn't hear the washing machine going.
In my head I tried to determine which cycle it should be on, and I immediately got annoyed because, by my count, it should definitely still be going. A little cranked, I went upstairs to check on it.
As I opened the laundry room door I was immediately struck by the scene which presented itself. There was my washer, full of clothes, and soapy water to the brim with the door wide open.
The first thought that ran through my mind was, "oh my gosh, some psycho rapist has somehow sneaked into my house and is toying with my mind and luring me upstairs into his clutches by opening the lid of the washer and stopping the cycle."
As I shut the lid and started up the cycle again, I dialed 911 on my cell phone, poised my right thumb over the send button just in case, and I picked up the hammer nearby. I don't know why I didn't just run from my apartment, but I thought I'd look around. (Suddenly all those damsels in B movie horror flicks don't look quite so dumb)
I moved slowly past each of the two empty bedrooms. I made a quick glance in each. If someone was hiding, I definitely wouldn't have seen them with the cursory look I paid to each, but I felt a slight reassurance that I had indeed looked in each room.
I glanced into the bathroom at the end of the hall. Empty (I didn't check behind the shower curtain because I was too scared).
I entered my bedroom. Empty.
I went into my attached bathroom. Empty.
I peered into my attached huge, dark walk-in closet. Empty.
I even had the guts to open the glass door of my shower. Empty.
A slight sigh of relief escaped from my tense lungs.
I set down the hammer, cleared 911 from my phone and went back downstairs to the TV.
Thoughts from every horror movie I'd ever seen (including trailers) flitted through my mind for the next 10 minutes.
I tried to think of some mechanical reason why the lid would pop open....Pressure differential, spring/switch failure, imbalance in the load...Nothing made sense.
because I really am just a little girl at heart when I'm scared, I called my mom. She told me to call the ear doctor and have him come and look the place over. Then, she said that I probably just tossed the soap in on top of my clothes and forgot to shut the door, but I was SURE I had closed it.
I went to bed scared and alone.
This morning as I was in a rush to get ready I was doing 10 things at once. Just as I was about to run out of the door I thought that I should rotate the next load of laundry. I entered the laundry room and what I saw almost made me laugh out loud.
I'd started the load, but forgot to put in my clothes or shut the lid. It was sitting there exactly like last night: open, full of water, silently laughing at me and my ridiculous panic attack.
What a nerd, huh?