I'm Losing My Mind

A couple of nights ago, I decided to head up to my room early to read and relax before going to bed. I don’t particularly like to eat in bed, but I really wanted some crackers and peanut butter to munch on while reading my book. So, I gathered the crackers, PB, a plate, and a butter knife and up the stairs I went. As I passed the bathroom, something caught my eye: the door was closed. Huh. I don’t recall closing the bathroom door. Why would I close it? I don’t live with a roommate. I don’t even remember the last time I went in that bathroom that day. Well, it freaked me out. I mean, was there some psychotic killer in the bathroom waiting to jump out and attack me? Was there something lurking in the shower? I know, I sound so insanely paranoid.

Before investigating the creepy bathroom with its closed door, I went in my room to put down my plate of goods. Here’s where I lost my mind: I grabbed the butter knife. Yes. My weapon of choice for a potential serial rapist is a dull, flat piece of metal. What am I going to do? Butter him to death? Make him a sandwich? “BWAHAHA hold still while I grease you up like a dinner roll!” Seriously, someone please take me to a therapist.

Well, I’m sure you know how this story ends. No, I did not find anyone in the bathroom. I don’t know why the door was shut, but it is obvious that I was the one who shut it and just totally didn’t even realize it. Yet, my paranoia didn’t stop there. As I went to feed the bunnies (which are at the moment in the guest room), I took my butter knife along. I also held on to my butter knife as I checked under my bed and the closets.

See? I told you. I’m really losing my mind. So to any stalkers reading this, if you come and attack me, I won’t fight back. I’ll just butter you some toast.