I overplan and overprepare for everything. Much of the time, it is unnecessary, and as it turns out, can blow up in my face, spectacularly and comically, without any assistance from the Acme Corporation.
During my first summer living in Providence, Rhode Island, I rented an in-law unit in a charming old house on a charming old street. The unit was on the ground floor, with a view of a garden in the front, and a view of a yard in the back. The landlord lived on the two floors above.
We both received a notice that the local electric company was going to do some upgrading. As part of that, there would be a scheduled blackout during the wee hours of an upcoming evening.
On that particular evening, my landlord made plans–effective plans–to stay elsewhere. I was new to the area and didn’t know anyone to crash with, so I just planned to hang back in the dark house, by myself.
Should I cue the foreboding horror movie music now or wait?
It was a weeknight, I had to get up for work the next morning. My electric alarm clock would reset during the blackout and not show the proper time in the morning. I didn’t have any other waking devices, so thinking ahead, I opened up my bedroom shutters so that I would see and wake up to the morning daylight. That’s me–always benefitting myself by planning ahead and thinking of the small things. My future self was going to thank me.
However, when the power was shut off, the alarm system in the house automatically notified my landlord’s mother, who was not informed of the scheduled blackout. Very concerned by this, she called the local police department.
I was not aware of any of this. I was just lying in bed, trying to nod off, like any other, ordinary evening.
At some point during that ordinary evening, I heard the distinct sound of leaves crunching in the backyard.
Then I heard more of that crunching sound and in a pattern that indicated there was someone walking around the backyard.
Through my open shutters I saw a beam from a flashlight shining into my bedroom. There was definitely someone out there and they were looking inside my bedroom.
That was followed by a knock on the back door. There was definitely someone out there, someone requesting a direct face-to-face encounter. I was scared shitless, but for some inexplicable reason, I got out of bed and walked towards the door. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat, like in those old cartoons. I vividly remember approaching the door and thinking, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m about to die.
I partially opened the door. A man identified himself as a police officer and started talking. I couldn’t see his face because it was completely dark and the only light that existed emanated from his flashlight, which was pointed in my face. He asked who I was. I explained I was the tenant (thus, lawfully allowed to be in the house at this particular time).
He explained the reason for and the events behind his visit. There was some more talk and then we wrapped up our little impromptu conversation. Wow, what a crazy misunderstanding. Hilarious! I’ll just calmly go back to bed now.
I went back to bed, but I didn’t sleep at all after that. I would not recover from that rush of adrenaline; I was up the remainder of the night. I still went to work the next day, on zero hours of sleep. I don’t remember any details from that day at work; I was still rattled and could only think about the events of the previous evening. It’s pretty safe to assume that I got jack shit done.
That would stand in sharp contrast to our future dogs’ amazing ability to quickly recover and wind down from a sudden surge of adrenaline and go back to sleep.
You can read about that in a previously posted, hair-raising tale here.
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