MICHELLEISMS

Tuesday evening at around 10:30 pm my doorbell rang. Not expecting anyone, I went to the front door and peered out of the peephole.  I didn’t answer.  I didn’t say a word.  I just allowed my dog to bark hysterically behind the closed door.   I went upstairs to the window that overlooks my front yard, and noticed a tow truck parked nearby with lights on and engine running.  I wrote down the phone number on the side of the truck and simply assumed that the person(s) at my door were at the wrong house.

The next night…or shall I say MORNING, at about 2:30am I was awakened by a knock at my front door. Correction…I was awakened by my dog barking after someone knocked at my front door. Alone and scared, I yelled through the door and the men responded they were looking for “Trevor Sizemore.”  I yelled back that they had the wrong door and they left.  As I watched from my upstairs window, I could see them enter the same tow truck I’d seen the night before.  I then called a guy friend of mine who offered to come over but I needed more comfort than company. 

Terrified was how I was feeling as I tried to go back to sleep.  I kept thinking of stories of robberies, break-ins and murders.  What if these guys were merely scoping out my spot?  What if my crazy EX was out to get me? What if…What if…What if?

I called the number on the tow truck and the guy that answered acted like he didn’t have a clue what I was talking about.  Being that it appeared to be a repossession, I’m not even sure that he would give me information anyway.  I still managed to tell him that whoever was coming to my door at all these odd times had an invalid address but he said that my street didn’t ring a bell.  So, for the remainder of the evening, I’m sitting up all stressed thinking that my doorbell is gonna ring again and that some gong-ho repo man might take it upon himself to break into my garage to finally realize his mistake.

Thanksgiving, I spent most of the evening out at my Aunt’s house so I’m not sure if they made it back again. That evening, as I arrived home… ALONE, I decided that my next purchase would be a Glock 45.  I learned to shoot back in the day when I was married, but that’s a story for another day. Since then, I’ve always felt that a gun in your home invites negative energy.  Almost like if it’s there you’re gonna have to use it one day.  I know I talk a whole lotta sh*t, but that thought alone terrifies me even more than someone knocking on my door at 2something in the morning. Hence my dilemma, do I purchase a gun knowing that I may have to use it one day? or do I patiently wait to get “got”?