(no subject)
I wish people would stop breaking into my house. It's really getting on my nads. A couple of weeks ago an extremely volatile individual kicked our door in, and this afternoon some guy appeared on the stairs.
I was having an afternoon nap, being the go-getting individual that I am, and I heard some noises in the house, but continued to drowse. Then I heard someone coming up the stairs (our house is on three floors - kitchen downstairs, my bedroom on the 1st floor and two more bedrooms on the 2nd floor upstairs), so I opened my bedroom door, and was confronted by a man standing on the landing. We then had the following fruitful conversation:
Me [remember I've just woken up]: "Who are you?"
Peculiar man: [swiftly disappearing up the stairs to the 2nd floor] "I'm Johnny."
Me: "What are you doing in my house?"
Peculiar man: [unhelpfully silent]
I then locked myself in my room for a while (I have no idea why) before searching the house. No sign of him, and he definitely hadn't come back down the stairs. All the doors in the house were locked and the windows closed.
I called my flatmates and the police. The police are coming round at some point to take fingerprints. My flatmates seemed unanimously of the opinion that I was tripping off my tits. I started to feel like Lucy in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe or like I was trapped in a Brixton-based episode of Twin Peaks.
.
We've now established that he came through the attic. How terrifying is that? I'm getting a taser and a bear trap.