It Was 6pm On A Friday.

Please read that title with Billy Joel singing it.

Except I know he said it was a Saturday at 9.

Anyways, I was sitting in my pajamas and robe, no kids, Netflix and chilling.

I had just started to watch a true crime documentary.

You know, white girl shit.

When my home alarm goes off.

All three dogs lose their shit, at the same time I was losing mine.

I race over to the panel.

There's apparently a fire and I am being poisoned by CO2.

Really?!?

I get a day to myself and this is how I die?!?

Now this panel is asking for my password.

Are you fucking kidding me?!?

I barely remember where my bathroom is.

So after putting in the wrong password ten times the alarm company calls me.

They ask if I remember the password.

To which trying to speak over 3 howling dogs I say, would you be calling if I did?

Then, he asks for the "safe word."

I almost replied, 'stop' but then said if I dont remember my password, I surely dont remember a safe word.

I clearly don't feel safe in my house, I can tell you that at this point.

I desperately say my name and say my house is intact and I am still breathing, can we shut off this alarm and request that we please don't get the authorities involved?

I was beginning to feel like I had committed a crime I didn't want discovered.

All I want to do is watch documentaries about people that are committing real crimes jeez!

Anyways...

He says yes, and with that, I return to my binging of television.

I call my kids to tell them the funny story, even though I had a day away from them, truth be told I miss them, and know they would appreciate a good "CYNTHIA" story.

As soon as I call my daughter the doorbell rings.

The dogs whom had just calmed down go nuts yet once again.

My heart sinks.

I immediately hang up on her.

I answer the door to the entire fire department, surprise!

Yeah and I'm in my beloved pajamas and robe.

The Chief in his car came into the house first.

I apologized and told the truth, again!

I was just watching TV when the system went bizerko.

I informed him that I had looked around myself, but hadn't felt or seen anything that was a fire and I was clearly conscious, enough to be embarrassed atleast, but stated that he was free to look around because he was the professional, also he was in regular clothes.

He clearly wasn't here for the crime documentary slumber party.

He asked if I had cooked something, which to be honest felt slightly insulting that he would think my cooking was that bad, but anyways...

Next thing you know the entire force was there with the fire engines lights blaring and firefighters with their bunker gear on entering the house on a mission.

I went from embarrassed to mortified.

My only mission was to keep watching tv; big girl goals.

Dudes were coming in with full on helmets.

I profusely apologized for the inconvenience, while getting a lecture that apparently I need supervision to install batteries on the smoke detector, which sidenote I had done months before; nonetheless I am ready to close the door and go back to my "safe" space on the couch when three more firemen emerge from upstairs.

I have no idea how many men were roaming about in the house.

Anyways, in case you were wondering about my Friday.

Now you have it.

Never a dull moment.

But one that I hope will make you laugh.

This whole town has now officially seen that I solely wear pajamas in my house.

And maybe sometimes outside my house, but lets keep that between us.

And as per the prior Billy Joel reference, I ended up with my not regular crowd and a lot of men shuffling in.

Oh la di da dee dee da...

Xoxo,

C.