Timex Beats the Bogeyman

I woke up this morning to the sick wail that is my alarm clock. I've had the thing for years and when I first bought it, the Timex "Indiglo" was all the rage. I could look over in the middle of the night as a new mother and get a clear reading of how sleep deprived I really was.

The clock hums and I quickly became used to the sound and the flourescent green blue colour that was projected from the face. I remember my ex husband barking at me to cover the damn thing up because the light ostensibly kept him awake.

Oh, please.

The only thing that kept him awake was sex and since that wasn't a prolonged affair, he always managed to get his 10 hours a night.

Anyway, this morning when the alarm went off, it sounded funky. Instead of that sharp, set your teeth on edge blare that I've grown to loathe with a fury, I got this weak beep, beep, beep that sounded like a car door alarm going off....in Vietnam. It was a whisper. I hit snooze but didn't really have to because I probably could have slept through it just fine. The trouble was that I perceived this other sound and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up.

At first, I thought it must be my sleep haze and I was just listening to the rise and fall of my own chest. Then, I held my breath and the sound was still there. Someone or something was breathing loudly, rhythmically and RIGHT OUTSIDE OF MY OPEN WINDOW. Do you remember as a kid irrationally being frightened to get out of your bed for fear that a hand would shoot out from underneath the dust ruffle and grab you like Carrie?

Umm...that was me this morning. I was terrified. I tried talking myself out of the panic. My internal dialogue usually works like a charm with scary things like wicked turbulence over the Pacific in the dead of night. I just imagine the plane bathed in a pure white light of protection (as suggested by Birkenstock wearing mother) and soon, I'm focused on happy thoughts instead of assuming the crash position. Well, none of it was working at 4:30 am. I turned ever so slightly and looked out of the window. The whole side of my house was shrouded in fog.

Of course.

Because apparently, it's not spooky enough that there was an unidentified species respirating under my window like Michael from Hallowe'en in the fricking face mask. Jesus.

I lay there nearly paralyzed, hating myself for being such a goober. Meanwhile, my wheezy old alarm clock hummed through the last few seconds of my nine minute snooze and then positively SHRIEKED. Every organ in my body plunged right to my bowel. I flew off the mattress and quickly realized my ankles were vulnerable to an under bed attack so I sprinted to my bathroom, threw on the light and caught a glimpse of my wild-eyed, panicked, whack-a-do, self in the mirror. And then, I giggled because let's face it, I'm a nutter.

Even though I could still feel my heart pounding in my ears, I put on a pair of sweats and wandered over to the window.

The breathing sound was gone.

Creepy.