I did something I almost never do.
Hubby was away overnight. Shortly before bedtime, I noticed through my living room window something glowing on the city’s sidewalk in front of our house. Had someone dropped a flashlight? Seemed unlikely.
Curiosity got the best of me. I stepped outside into the dark—something I almost never do. I discovered our lawn littered with garbage. Leaving the trash for morning, I picked up the glowing object. It turned out to be one of those solar lights, no doubt stolen from a neighbor's yard and broken from its peg. I carried it inside, still lit.
Only then did I realize what a perfect home invasion setup that could provide. Plant a glowing object within a homeowner’s view and wait. When said homeowner slips out to investigate, you slip inside and hide somewhere until they’ve gone to sleep.
The thought kept nagging me as I climbed into bed. It didn’t help that I’d recently heard of a home invasion only blocks away. I told myself to stop being paranoid and settled in with my book.
Then I began to hear weird noises. Thump. Clink.
That’s when it occurred to me. I’m not afraid of being alone in the dark. I’m afraid of NOT being alone in the dark!
What was going on? I rose to investigate. With a cordless phone in one hand (whether to call 911 or to throw at an intruder, I’m not sure), I went from room to room, turning on the lights and checking behind every door and curtain.
As I approached the kitchen, I heard the source of the ominous noises. I’d started the dishwasher before going to bed—something I almost never do.
Whew.
As I continued to explore each room, I heard my cell phone ping from atop my office desk. Which is odd, because leaving the volume up is something I almost never do. By now it was eleven o’clock. Staying up that late, let alone checking my phone at that hour, is something I almost never do. Curiosity won again.
The notification alerted me to the start of a publicity campaign for my new book release, a “blog tour,” sort of the equivalent of the old-fashioned book tours authors used to do in person. Of course, I simply had to see how the campaign looked, and clicked on the link. Oh no! My “giveaway” had been set by default for entrants in the USA only. My Canadian friends and readers would not be impressed.
I sat at my laptop and emailed the tour organizer to ask whether they could change the giveaway to include Canada. I returned to bed and slept great. In the morning, an email from the tour organizer assured me she could expand the geography of the giveaway.
Whew.
Do I believe the glowing solar light was left on my sidewalk so that I could more quickly circumvent a potential problem in my book world? Not for a minute. But I’m glad it worked out that way. Hopefully, I’ve learned a lesson in caution.
As you know by now, sparing you my life lessons is something I almost never do. Whether you need them or not. Plus, if this writing gig doesn’t pan out, maybe with my new street smarts, I can take up home invasion to help make ends meet.
Better yet, I’ll work this trick into my next novel.
“I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.” (Psalm 4:8)
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