Freak Out City

Greetings from my new outpost here in Freak Out City. Last night at four in the morning I had visitors at my window. Human visitors. I am not amused. In fact, I am scared out of my mind. Momm found tracks that indicate these uninvited guests were "casing" my window, as it were, and so here I am FREAKING OUT, dead tired yet unable to sleep. Which always leads to strange activities. Like sorting ammunition in the wee hours because digging out the old .22 target pistol, I found that the boxes had broken in the three years they've not been touched, and my hollow points had mixed with my wadcutters (I wonder what you would call the offspring of such intermingled lineage?). Then there was the massive hunt for the keys to the gun case, because that, too, has not been seen in three years (I need to start shooting again; it would probably help strengthen the wrists greatly... also the eyes). Then the massive hunt for the instructions on taking the gun apart, so that I could inspect the damage wrought by three years of neglect in a dank basement (all external and superficial, everything working fine).

This hunt also lead to me realizing that I have a filing system that lacks systematization in a huge way: the handbook for the Ruger was in with the files from the old Dodge (sold in 2002) as well as a bunch of cards from my 21st birthday. Also found were the letters E sent me when we were exchanging letters pretending to be people living in the 19th century. I was, predictably, a ship's captain (yes, there was a backstory to how a woman became a ship's captain, but bugger all if I remember what it was. E?), though I can't recall how she spent her time, and was in too much of a strop to stop and read the letters.

So. Then I fought with my conscience about the whole "would I ever shoot at someone" thing, and then we argued about the whole "is it wist to be the party who introduces a firearm to the conflict" thing, and finally we compromised on the "we fucking know there have been two people looking in the window at four in the morning, and wandering back and forth on the dark side of the house" thing. If they're breaking in to a room they know is occupied, I'm betting they've got weapons, too. Until my mom gets motion lights up on that side of the house my conscience will have to hate me a little bit.

(Incidentally, when you call 911 at four in the morning and tell them you just saw people outside your window, they respond REALLY fast. And the officer even calls back to tell you that the coast looks clear.)