This morning at 3:14 am, my alarm started its mighty wail. I leaped out of bed, unaware of the time or the implications of the alarm going off. I went straight to the wall and turned off the alarm as if I had walked in the door from the garage and nothing was wrong. I finally took in the alarm's unfamiliar phrase as I typed in my code - back door open back door open back door open. I looked at the back door, and it was OPEN. Teddy was hiding under my bed shaking - a very useful watch dog. My phone started to ring as I stepped toward the back door. The alarm company called to verify I was still alive. Talking to the security guy on the phone, I verified my safety code without really considering if I was safe or not. Security guy asked if I need the police. I replied, "I don't think so, nobody's here. I just wonder why the door is open." He said obviously, "maybe you didn't close it all the way." Uh, thanks dude for your insight. I closed the back door, and set the alarm again. Teddy and I sat in my room revved up and wondered what the next step should be. It was very windy and a little rainy outside. It was probably the wind, plus teddy is afraid of rainy weather which explains his persistent shaking. But then I thought, what if an intruder had intimidated Teddy into this fearful behavior. I decided if I ever wanted to sleep, I would have to search the house for intruders. I went to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife I could find. I sleuthed through every room like a detective from Law and Order, my back against the wall sneaking to the doors, then busting though each door knife pointed forward. I was reassured after my search, and I settled back in bed with the knife on the nightstand. I let Teddy climb into bed to help calm him down. Teddy promptly pooped in the bed - parasympathetic rebound is the pathophysiology, an hour long clean up was the result. Now, needless to say, I cannot sleep - though my bed is now in perfect condition to prevent SIDS - no bedding or pillows, just a warm outfit on firm mattress. The washing machine is producing the noise of a large unbalanced centrifuge unaccustomed to the weight of a duvet and pillows. I may just have to invest in a new bedroom set. This is not the first time Teddy has soiled a bed. Back in our Boulder days, Teddy soiled my sister Sami's bed when he wasn't feeling well. Sami was in Denver that weekend, so I started to clean everything with the hope she wouldn't find out. In another battle of washing machine vs. duvet, her bedding ripped and the washing machine flooded. I started to sew everything together, hoping I could still salvage the situation. The rip was right in the center after repair, and I went to the fabric store looking for something to help. I bought her name in iron on letters and ironed them over the sewn up tear. She got home shortly, and I told her I had a surprise for her. She went up to her room and emerged with an extremely confused look asking why I had labeled her comforter. I hurriedly replied, "Teddy pooped in your bed, your comforter ripped in the clean up, there's a small flood in the bathroom, and I have to go to work now. I'm really sorry! byyyeeee."
--By Farrah, who's sleeeeeepppyy
