I must be a grown up now

For years Steve and the boys have been going on this annual camping trip with the men in our family.  That means I am alone.  At night.  Ugh.

I'm not a fan of being alone at night.  And not for the reasons you might think.  I'm not worried about someone breaking into the house, of a middle of the night attacker although the thought does cross my mind because I watch too many 48 Hours and Dateline's.  But no, not afraid of the real things that could happen.

I'm afraid of all the creepy, freak me out things that could happen.  I am a big chicken.  Commercials for scary movies terrify me.  I had a few traumatic experiences with babysitters scaring the living shit out of me to not be afraid of what lurks behind the door when you think you are alone.  I know in my heart that Chucky does not exist but I make sure the closet door is closed anyway.  The porch lights that are never turned on regularly blaze 24 hours a day the weekend the guys are gone.  Bad things happen in the darkness.  At least that's my feeling on it. 

It's crazy, I know.  Absolutely nothing like that is going to happen and I know this to be true.  However, usually I dread, dread, dread this weekend when they leave.  I don't mind the daylight hours but as soon as night creeps in I make my bed on the couch so I can hear and see all that I could possibly see and hear.  I leave a light on and the tv on and pray to God that a scary commercial doesn't come on.  Screw you "Annabelle"!

But this weekend, something different happened.  I wasn't freaked out.  I did not get a creepy feeling at all.  I still made sure the house was locked up tight, the front and back lights were on.  I still left a light on in the room I was in.  But I wasn't terrified.  Sleep was much more important than worrying about Jason, Michael Myers or Freddie Kruger.  The funny thing, by the way, is that I have never in my life watched those kinds of movies.  The only thing I know about them is what I see on the commercials (told you, big chicken shit here).  I didn't sleep well the first night, woke up several times.  But I did eventually go upstairs and sleep in my own bed.  The second night I just started there.  I even turned off the tv.  Only one dog slept with me and he was the smaller one.  The big one slept in the hallway.  I would have liked his company in the room too but I figured he was the first warning signal should one of those creepy things make it as far as the top floor.  And last night I slept great!  I woke up late, even.  It felt good.

So maybe I'm a grown up after all.  I wouldn't want to do it all the time, no more than once a year.  But now I know I can do it.