June 19, 2014

Annie Get Yer Gun (or The Night I Almost Shot my Yoga Pants)

We live in a fairly rural area outside what is perceived to be a "sleepy" little college town, and although it is not the innocent small town many people would like it to be, it is definitely not on any list of worse places to live in the United States. However, we have seen our share of incidents--and not terribly far from where we live--in addition to our own brush with vandalism.

The Sarge, being, well, a sarge, is definitely a believer in the Second Amendment. Not card-carrying NRA members, we are gun-owners.  We bought one in particular because it would be easier for me to handle, in the case that I should need to "handle" anything while he is away. 

Annie Get Your Gun

The Sarge went away a few weeks ago for his National Guard Annual Training. Since Spring had finally decided to stay in the Northeast, the weather had been pretty nice. Enjoying my solitude, I decided to sit out on our back deck with a glass of wine, gaze at the stars, troll facebook on my smartphone and successsfully avoid the literal mountain of laundry in my living room.

Laundry? What laundry?
It was kind of chilly, so I donned one of The Sarge's hoodies before heading out to bask in the starlight and the tiny glow of social media. I even brought the dog with me so that she could take care of her nightly before we both turned in. One glass down, some trolling accomplished, I decided to head back in for a refill. As I walked back in the house I see a pair of my yoga pant strewn carelessly across the floor (to the right of the baskets in the picture).

Huh? How did THOSE get THERE? The dog was out with me, so she wasn't rifling through the laundry (not that she ever even does that. Ever.) As far as I knew the kids were all in bed as I am certain they would have called for me had they gotten out of bed and I was not there. All that in about 1.2 seconds and I am now officially FREAKED OUT.  What? The? Fuck?

So I scurry back to our bedroom and free the aforementioned weapon from it's hiding place. I inserted the magazine into the grip and came back down the hall.....

Now might be a good time to mention that I've never actually fired this weapon. I am licensed to carry and I usually get a refresher course from The Sarge before he goes away. This time was no different. In fact, we had taken it with us on a recent trip and I had put it away myself.  It had been a while since I'd held it. Before I locked it up, I inserted the clip (I was ALONE in my home) but forgot how to remove it. We took it out and The Sarge reminded me how to remove it and how to chamber a round and how to release the safety.

So I head out into the kitchen to retrieve my phone. I closed and locked the open back door and decided to walk downstairs to check things out. The downstairs was "clear" and the garage doors were locked. I came back upstairs and just stared at the yoga pants, as if they might just stand up and walk themselves back to wherever they came from. 

What? The? Fuck? I was still freaked out and could not figure out HOW in the hell they came to be in the middle of the floor or why? What kind of message was this would-be intruder trying to send me by carelessly tossing my pants on the floor? "Get off the floor, you lazy bitch!" "Do some housework!" "FOLD ME! FOLD ME!" What could he possibly be saying that the mountain of laundry wasn't already? 

Like any faithful Law and Order junkie, I surveyed the scene. One glass of wine was not enough to make me think that I had thrown down some yoga pants and completely forgot that I had done so, but I was the only person awake in the house, so what HAD I done? Let's retrace my steps......
I poured myself some wine, stepped outside and set it and my phone down so that I could go back in for a jacket. I got The Sarge's hoodie from the hook by the front door, held it in front of me and swung it around to slide both arms in while walking toward the kitchen. THE HOODIE!!  My yoga pants must have been static-ly clinging to the inside of The Sarge's hoodie! When I swung it around they must have fallen out onto the floor! Obviously I didn't notice and I never looked back on my way to the back door.

Mystery solved! And the only thing shot in the process was my nerves. Lenny Briscoe would be proud.


  1. Yikes. Guess that's one way to arm yourself against static cling.

  2. That static cling is one nasty criminal!! So funny! xoxo

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