When I woke up at 0300 hrs, I was understandably groggy in that I-just-woke-up-from-a-weird-dream kind of way. I went to the bathroom, not thinking much of it because I was just happy that it wasn’t a nightmare that I had awoken from for once. When I came out of the bathroom, I noticed that all the doors were closed. Come to think of it, my bedroom door had been closed when I woke up. I had to open it to go out into the hallway. And the bathroom door had been closed as well. I went across the hall and opened the door, flipping the lights on and looking around. Nothing very evident was out of place. The only suspicious thing was an extra box — a large box — full of what, upon closer examination, looked like my stuff from off of the couch in the living room. My medication was on top. My bag with all of my tech in it was not in the room, though, and neither were my Church bag nor my travel bag. I was getting worried. I shut the door ever so quietly and snuck up the hallway toward the living room. I saw the edge of a quilt on the floor and then peeled around to see my mother sleeping soundly on the couch. I then turned my attention to the living room floor. My suspicions were confirmed. I woke up to find a Squiggle Bug fast asleep on the floor pillow. I then panicked. Where had my Scriptures gone? And my bag? And my books? I stood over next to the entrance to the dark kitchen, not knowing that my mother was now awake and watching me. She whispered to me where everything was and I methodically searched out all of my stuff. All accounted for! So it hadn’t been a dream. Squiggle Bug really had been sitting in my room last night staring at the bright square LED nightlight that I have plugged in, haha!
Content Rating PG, for the most part
I try to keep the content of my posts in the PG range (meaning that maybe your 13-year-old should not read it... Just kidding!) - you know, something I could get away with tastefully in the town square without getting lynched, tarred-and-feathered, or hung (and something my mother would NOT wash my mouth out with soap for). As far as what age you have to be to understand some of the subtleties of my humor in writing and/or speaking, well... That may vary. A lot.