Home Alone

Yesterday, Keith drove up to Idaho with his dad to visit his Grandma and Grandpa Jensen. That left me with our apartment all to myself. Now, a normal person might be excited about this, but I'm kind of a scaredy-cat and hate being home alone (well, at least at night). I highly doubt I would be able to whip out any Kevin McAllister-esque booby trapping skills if someone were to break into my apartment.

Keith was shocked the other day, when my three-year-old niece thought the Disney movie The rescuers was too scary and we had to turn it off. Watching the movie, I could kind of see where she was coming from. It was way more dark than I remembered. I probably would have been scared too as a three-year-old. When i was little, I remember being too scared to even go upstairs and get a movie because I was afraid I might see the picture of the witch on the side of The Wizard of Oz movie case while looking for another movie. Maybe being a scaredy-cat just runs in my family?

Unfortunately, I'm no longer three years old, and being afraid isn't quite as understandable. Is it bad that I'm 23 and I'm still afraid of the dark? I strategically turn the lights off in a chain throughout my apartment so that I never have to be in the dark. The longer this post goes on, the more I'm beginning to think I might have some serious issues.

Fortunately, no one broke into our house and I miraculously woke up alive and unharmed without Keith there. Good thing this was only an overnight trip to Idaho. Now, hurry up and come home.