Last night I woke up in the middle of the night to scratching noises. Was it coming from outside of the window? Was it coming from the closet that is supposedly empty? It was not the cats as Harley was laying on my legs and Dot was purring on a pile of blankets near the bed. I fully expected Harley (at least him, if not both of them) to start growling and staring like a freak in some direction at the scratching noises, but he did not help me out at all. Instead I peeked around in the dark a couple times very briefly before deciding it was a better idea to just try to go back to sleep. Because if something creepy was going to come out of the closet, I’d rather not know about it. I was going to send a message via phone, but I couldn’t bring myself to move.

This morning, Michelle suggested that squirrels might be in the attic. I am such a girl. And a wuss.

Did I mention that I wouldn’t let Kristi rent “The Exorcism of Emily Rose” last weekend because it might be “too scary?” It’s true.