It all happens when the hubby is away

First the fleas, now this.

A little background: Hickam has been having a major rash of robberies in recent weeks right in the immediate area of our house.   Seriously--they've walked off with a 52" TV and stolen a truck out of the driveway in the middle of the day, though much of this seems to occur when the officer is TDY.   So everyone's on heightened alert around here.

Emily woke crying around 5am (hey, it was only the second waking, so it's much better than it's been lately!), and I went in to get her.   Just as I got there, I heard this massive bang and CRASH somewhere in the house.

Funny what goes through your mind in a nanosecond:   Where was that?   Seems like it lasted forever.   Was it the TV downstairs?   Should I check it out?   Great time to have a German Shepherd tucked away for the night in her crate... downstairs.   I can't do this with a baby, and I can't leave her alone just in case.   Close the door.   Wait--I left the phone in Emily's bathroom after talking with Kristen during Bug's bath.   I should call Security Forces.   No, it's probably nothing and they're gonna think I'm an idiot.   No, they're not.   Yes, they are.   Well, maybe, but you have a responsibility to Emily first.   You're right in the zone of the robberies and John's away.   Call them.   Oh, man, I really don't want to.   Call them.   Fine.   All in a flash.

Good news is that this time they found our house (last year, during an apparent visit from the spirit of Jerry Springer involving John's ex, they couldn't find our house), and no sign of forced entry.   They searched the house and found the cause:   the large glass mirror on the master bathroom door had chosen to commit suicide in dramatic fashion on the tile floor.   Oh, good grief.   I feel like such a moron.   Why is it that I'd be adamant with any of my friends that calling 911 was absolutely the right thing to do in the totality of circumstances, but I feel like such a fool?

And how is it that fleas and household gremlins always know when your husband is TDY?   There's a veritable sea of glass covering the bathroom floor, which is going to be quite an adventure to clean up with my ever-helpful toddler.

My consolation prize is that John is coming home earlier than expected (well, later than expected initially, now earlier than was expected next, as is typical of military exercises!).   This little incident couldn't have waited 48 hours, I guess.

Ah, well. My life is an exercise in humility.