Last night I found myself all alone in my apartment. Shit scared.
I am generally ‘home alone’ about once a fortnight and considering I have been living out of my parents house for 4 years now and spent the first 2 years actually living by myself, you would assume I would be a pro.
As much as I relish the nights to myself where I can do all sorts of weird and wonderful things with no judgment; hours spent watching SATC repeats until the wee hours, the scraping of dead skin from my feet, eating nothing but a cucumber and Doritos for dinner… you get my drift – come bedtime, I am a jittery 7 year old who is still convinced that the boogie-monster is hiding in his invisibility cloak (cause I totally checked) under my bed.
The problem is 3-fold –
- I live in Sydney, which does have an abundance of crime. On Saturday night my friend was telling me how her parent were robbed IN THEIR F-ING SLEEP a few months back, yes that’s right people broke in and stole everything whilst the fam was sleeping – scary right. And just think about that chick in Western Sydney who looked at her reflection a few months back only to see a masked man brandishing a knife at her! See! My terror is totally justified by this point alone.
- I live with a film student whose genre is horror. Thus the last few years have been inundated with scream-fest flicks in which my eyeballs have been continuously traumatised. It doesn’t help that I seem to forget the deets of all these movies until I’m home alone where my Judas of an imagination manages to conjure them all up. Which bring us to…
- My imagination. Is ridiculously vivid, no joke one night I convinced myself a shape in a corner was a serial killer crouching…I spent the next few hours barely breathing whilst my heart hammered away in my ears willing ‘him’ to leave me alone. (I think the ‘pretend I’m sleeping’ thing comes from Friday the 13th – Jason always seemed to leave his victims if they were innocently asleep) Needless to say the ‘crouched serial killer’ was actually just my handbag and a t-shirt hanging of my doorknob. I figured this out as the sun was coming up… lots of Red Bulls that day!
So what precautions do I – the ultimate scaredy cat – take on nights I’m home alone?
- I scout around my place no less than 3 times with my most pointy heel brandished in case I need a weapon. My bf informed me that carrying a knife was stupid as if someone actually ever was in my place they would no-doubt wrestle it out of my puny (yet freakishly strong) arms and use it on me…its so nice how much he reassures me huh. Anyway so I scout around 3 times (which considering it is a 65 sqm apartment takes roughly 5 mins) and continuously check in EACH and EVERY cupboard and crevice and then behind the blinds, under the bed etc. NOTE: The reason I do it 3 times is so the perpetrator wont be able to switch positions as I’m scouting…I’m so totally sane right?
- I then lightly coat the railing on the balcony with dishwashing liquid so anyone who tries to come in that way will slip and fall to his un-timely death.
- I will also close all the blinds so no one can spy on me and check the locks that many times I should truly be admitted to an OCD ward.
- Finally I ALWAYS leave the lounge room light on – so people think I’m ‘always up’. Yeah good tactic right 🙂
Even with the high level security methods – rest assured, the slightest noise has my ears pricking, the slightest shadow of movement has my retinas blooming and no matter what my heart continuously beats at such a rapid pace I’m probably losing a few kilos in my sleep…
If anyone has any other ‘perpetrator prevention’ tips please let me know.
Any weird terrors on your part?