so. sick. of. this.

I seriously need to chill out. Today after work I had my first real nap. It's been quite awhile since I've had time to do that. But before I went to sleep, I had the front door open because it was so nice out today. This led to the escape of Andy and him encountering the neighbour's kitty, who has an annoying bell. But that's another story altogether. So before I went to lie down I shut the door. I don't know or remember if I actually heard the door click shut. And I didn't lock it for some other reason. Probably because it was daytime. So I go and pass out on the mattress. When I finally unearth myself from beneath the blankets, it's 6:30 and I stumble out to the kitchen and I see that the front door is wide open. ACK. That's my worst nightmare ever, and add that to my case of ever-increasing paranoia - well, let's just say I'm not impressed right now. I decided to check the basement out, with Andy following me the whole way. Then I open up the closet in the kitchen down there and he runs into the stupid dark abyss/storage area in there and meows - it's dark, and I'm just like 'there's no fucking way I'm going in there cat, get the hell out NOW'. He eventually heeds my warnings. Then we go back upstairs and I lock that door. But now the toilet is making weird sounds...you know when another toilet in the house flushes and the other unused toilet kind of makes a rushing sound from within? Well, the stupid toilet up here just started to do that, which scares the crap out of me when I'm standing next to it. It's not cool. And then I start wondering if there's someone downstairs hiding, and using the toilet. Yeah, it may seem farfetched, but being here by myself doesn't do good things for me. And it sounds like there's someone upstairs. I know we don't have an upstairs here, but there's the attic. And I keep on hearing creaks and walking sounds. And Andy even hears them too. I was just in the washroom and I heard something from the kitchen - so did he apparently, because he kept looking at something. So...yeah. I wonder if there are books on reducing paranoia concerning houses and possibly imaginary people in the house? It doesn't help that my dad decides that he's now worried about me, working late and walking home late, through the residential areas that aren't incredibly lit up. He thinks I'm fine in the house; I'm just creeped out. Even though Andy is so annoying at times - thank God for him, without him I would be so lonely and wouldn't have anyone to talk to. I think I am now officially the crazy cat lady.

I want my mommy.