Why I Love Knitting Needles - Big Ones

Last night I am snuggled comfortably in bed, reading some Kingsolver when my cell phone rings. "Maybe it is Sunil" I think to myself (since he has been out of town).

"No Name" my cell phone reads back at me in black text on the blue-lit screen.

It was not going to use any minutes answering a call so late, so I figured, what the heck. Who knows who it could be. And I answer.

"Mumble, mumble, mumble"

"Hello?"

More mumbling.

"Who is this?"

More mumbling.

I hang up.

Then I hear a noise somewhere in the apartment. I am getting a little creeped out.

The thought crosses my mind - "Did I lock the door when I last took the dogs for a walk?" Uh-oh. Now the tiny bit of paranoia begins to seep in.

Quietly, I crawl out of bed, slink into the kitchen, and pull the biggest, sharpest knife I can find out of the drawer. I proceed to open every single closet, pantry, cabinet door in the place, just knowing that someone or something will come crashing down on me. But I have the knife.

My thorough search turns up absolutely nothing. It only reminds me of two things: Sleeping with the light on at age 26 is not a horrible thing and a large knitting needle within arms reach on the nightstand is a wonderful thing.