Hey there, awesome readers!
This post is brought to you by my cans.
My MILK cans. (Geesh!)
A few weeks ago, or possibly days (I’m still getting used to the new epilepsy meds), I posted the above-featured pic on Facebook.
The premise was that I was sharing my writing nook for the day. If you too are a writer, you’ll recognize it for its true motive: PROCRASTINATION.
As an aside, the one good thing that came from my bout of stalling fever was that I got to touch base with one of my cousins. (Hey, Barb!)
Picture taken. Picture posted. And a few back and forth comments later, it was time to stop the postponement and get down to the bones of writing. Except that while my eyes stared at the screen and my brain “pretended” to be oh-so focused, I suddenly had the urge to take another pic from my collection of milk cans.
As I explained to my cousin, think of me as the crazy cat lady. Except instead of feeding feral cats, I go to auctions and bring home milk cans.
The story behind this pic is that while this little corner in my kitchen may LOOK innocent – just a couple of old cans laden with a piece of barn wood to make a table for my Christmas cactus – the true intention for these cans is more strategic: Since we don’t use this door off the kitchen during the winter months, I’ve MacGyvered a quasi alarm system.
Now I’m not saying that I’m an expert in criminal behavior but I’ve watched enough TV to know that there are only two specific times when bad people will break into a home:
1. When no one is home
2. When someone is home
And since I make up the total population of both of these – “no one” and “someone” – my protection and well-being are of particular interest to me. Especially since I have a bona fide phobia of serial killers.
Here’s how my alarm system works:
If someone breaks in while I’m away, the first thing I’ll notice when I come home is a mess. The plant will be knocked over and I will immediately react in an I’m-getting-the-hell-out-of-here manner.
If someone should break in while I’m home, I’ll “hear” the mess and again be able to immediately react in an l-need-to-hide-in-the-closet-and-pretend-no-one-is-home manner.
You see? Genius right?
There are only two loopholes in my genius:
1. What if said bad people break in through another door or window?
2. What if said bad people who break into my house are clean freaks?
Again, my genius comes through with ONE solution for both of these loopholes. Allow me to introduce you to my dogs …
Yeah, they’re badass. And by badass I mean a little more aggressive than my Christmas cactus.
“Hmmm I see how your badass dogs can solve loophole #1 – if said bad people should break in through another door or window. But how can your dogs solve loophole #2 – if said bad people are clean freaks?”
Great question, awesome readers!
And the answer is elementary, dear Watson.
I keep whatever a clean freak breaking into my house would need, including broom and vacuum cleaner, right next to my dogs’ beds.
Suddenly, I have the urge to go reward my dogs with a cookie.