It sounds insane, but it’s a perfect example of my disconnect with reality and the past. I seriously spend about 1/3 of the time that I’m home alone worrying about Dennis Rader in my closet. I try to tell myself that I’ve lived in this house for over two years and have stayed home alone countless times without anyone trying to murder me. But, I can’t convince myself that today won’t be the day it actually happens.
Deep down I know this a good neighborhood. That the woman next door is a stay at home mom and can probably hear my TV right now. Not to mention, the lady across the street is your average Mrs. Kravitz, waiting for some action so she can call the cops. But, the schizophrenic in me always wins.
Excuse me while I go check the house for intruders.