I went to bed early last night. I’ve had a long week. But, my other half (Sam) wanted to go out. I gathered up all the dogs, put them in my room, and fell asleep in a pile of medicinal puppies. When I woke up, I was hot, and there were four lumps all rolled up in my covers instead of three. That’s when I realized Sam was in my bed, too. Nori is like the opposite of a Gremlin. She is sweet and loving at night and a complete terror in the morning. She woke me up super early chewing on my hands. So, I walked downstairs leaving the other three in bed. Sam heard me sneak out of the room and stumbled down the stairs behind me. When we reached the last three steps, we noticed things were totally out-of-place. Knowing Sam so well, it truly only took me a moment to retrace her steps the night before.
The front door was wide open. Like totally unlocked and OPEN. There was a full can of beer sitting on the last step. Outside, there was another full can of beer sitting on the porch, along with a broken cigarette. I found a towel strewn across the chair, and several other strange items out-of-place, including a picture that was hung sideways on the wall. She must have come home late last night after a few drinks, and decided to have another beer. She took the beer outside, broke her cigarette, and walked back inside to find another one. I can’t figure out why the towel was thrown over the chair or why the picture frame was turned sideways. But, I assume she forgot her beer was outside, walked into the kitchen, and brought another one to the living room. For whatever reason, she left it on the bottom step, came upstairs (I assume to look for another cigarette in my bag), and thought better of it. So, she climbed into my bed to fall asleep with a pile of medicinal puppies beside me.
When she saw all these things out-of-place, she was like, “What the hell happened?” So, I explained my theory about the night before. To which she replied, “Why would I have thrown a towel over the chair and left beer everywhere? I didn’t do this.” Her theory was, an intruder came into our house, took a shower, took her beer out of the fridge, broke her cigarette, and left the remnants of her break in all over the house. I was like, “Dude, I’m just going to call you Goldilocks from now on.” To which she loudly exclaimed, “DUDE! Can you AT LEAST call me PAPA BEAR!!!???”