Today was uneventful until I got home this evening, and then it was still uneventful, but in a freaked-out, paranoid sort of way.

I had gone out to dinner with Ryan--just to Souper Salad, so I wasn't expecting to be gone long. I just left my cell phone on the table, told my roommate and her boyfriend goodbye, and was out the door. An hour later we came back, and Ryan dropped me off on his way back to his parents' house in Denton.

I walked up the stairs to find my front door standing wide open.

Luckily Yoda (the most beautiful cat in the world) was still in the living room; she came out to greet me when I tentatively stepped inside. All of a sudden the thought came to me: Why did I just walk into my apartment when it's possible that there could be someone here beside me or Jamie? Remembering the stories about the recent assaults in the area, I hurriedly left and locked the door behind me. I calmly walked over to Ryan's apartment, hoping he was still there. He seemed a little surprised to see me, and was even moreso when I asked if I could use his phone to call the police. The 911 dispatcher wasn't the kindest woman in the world. A little nervous--this is the first time I'd called 911, I said to her, "This isn't an emergency, but I'm wondering if someone might be in my apartment..."

She said, "And you're asking me, because...?"

I didn't know how to respond. Just asked her, "Aren't you supposed to send someone over here to check it out?" She got my address and said she'd send someone, and for me to wait outside. Ryan and I went back over to my place to wait for the police. He timed them. Eight minutes. Not bad. The two of them went upstairs to my place, and I opened the door and watched my cat run right out the door past us. So Ryan is with the officers, telling them what he knew of the situation, while I'm trying to capture my cat outside.

They didn't find anything or anyone, and my cell phone was sitting out just where I left it. Nothing had been touched. I was lucky--we're not really sure what happened, except that Jamie might have forgotten to close the door when she left that evening. She was carrying her cello, so it's a definite possibility.

But I had to wait two hours for her to come home before finding this out. Ryan had been wonderful, and stayed with me the whole time plus some after the cops had gone, but his mom was expecting him to come home early, and I told him to leave. I sat down with the first book I saw, which just happened to be about a group of people who want to take over the world. I moved from the couch to the floor in case of stray bullets. I jumped at every little sound, and finally decided to go for a drive to calm my nerves. I drove around Dallas for about 30 minutes, then came back home to an empty apartment. Sat back down with the book after checking all possible hiding places one more time, until I heard something crash in the kitchen. That was it. I stepped back into my sandals, grabbed my purse, keys and phone, and headed back out for my second drive of the evening.

I didn't go far; Jamie and her boyfriend had just gotten back, and I asked them if they'd forgotten to lock the door, which is when she pieced together the "I was carrying my cello" explanation.

Now, I'm fairly sure that she, I and the cat are the only ones in the apartment, but it is a very frightening feeling, that you're not safe in your own home. Moving Day is going to be a bit sooner than expected, now. I just hope that I can sleep tonight; I'm still a little on edge.