doorbell

Somebody rang my doorbell tonight.

Drifting to sleep. Zing. Awake. Stare at the red letters on the clock. 11:14.

Cell phone on silent. Open. No missed calls. Close.

All sorts of thoughts collide. Who could it be?

The homeless man who stops by asking to rake and shovel for $?

A friend? Revelers? (Extremely bold) robbers?

Glance out the window. No cars. No lights.

Think about possible defense items in the house. Blank.

Nalgene ninja? Ah. Nah.

Put on running sweats and pull gray hoodie over my head.

Open my eyes. Complete darkness.

(I put the hoodie on backwards. Semi-startling, wholly funny.)

Creep down wooden stairs. Peek around the corner.

Nothing. Nobody. Nada.

It’s probably been too long since (he/she/they) rang it.

But who?

Get up close to the door. Peer around. See human tracks in the knee-deep snow between road and sidewalk. Were those tracks there before?

Thoughts still colliding.

Check lock. Secure.

Walk upstairs. Dismantle clothing. Hop in bed.

Hear funny noises. Daydream about robbers. Daydream about life.

Decide it’s [life] too exciting to be sleeping. Second night in a row with eager insomnia.

Go into room with doorbell.*

Check email. Write email. Post very odd blog.

*(It’s no ordinary doorbell either. It's made of plastic and eats 9 volt batteries, but here’s no rock loud enough to drown out its signature song.)