I’ve been watching horror movies over the past two days and am currently watching MaleVolent…a really messed up one.

My husband texts me saying that he hasn’t received a text from the youngest to be picked up from work yet when they closed at 9pm.

Just as I’m sending a text back, there’s an aggressive knock on my bedroom window.

Mind you, I’m big-breasted. Braless. And in my nighttime tee as I jump out of bed and yell, “What?!” at my window like it was supposed to answer back…obviously equipped to be the first to go down in any horror movie 🙄. I was headed to the front door when I realized that, so I opened up the garage instead because there was no way in hell I was opening that front door to give the movie goers what they wanted.

But as the garage door slowly opened…the one time it took 5 business days to open…I kept the door leading to the garage slightly opened so I could see who, if anyone would walk in. Then it dawned on me that if it was Methhead Ghostface or some shit like that that there was no lock on that door, confirming without a doubt that I was just bimbo enough to actually get whacked.


Then I saw the highlights of our car pulling out of the driveway, and my husband pausing to give me a thumbs up.

Dude.


An aggressive knock on my window is not the form of communication that needed to be used there.

..I hate him.