I am officially a victim, or, how I nearly died

So get this! Someone totally tried to break into my house with me inside it and I had to call the cops and everything!

Last night I cooked myself dinner (spiral pasta with nastyish carbonara sauce, broccoli, and shredded mature English cheddar--quite tasty) and then walked out of the kitchen, planning to take the pasta upstairs to my room. Those of you who remember my stairs, and the part where tobogganed down them on my butt, will remember that there's a window at the bottom of them, which faces the front road. There's a pedestrian walk-through just next to my house and a bus stop in front of my house, so it's quite common to see people outside. Also it was just after 6, so it wasn't dark yet (but it would be soon).

As I walked toward the stairs I noticed a man out the front window. At first I thought he was standing at the top of the walkway, but as I got closer to the window I realized that he was actually standing in my driveway. And I thought, "Huh. I don't know that guy." Also I noticed that he was carrying some sort of cricket bat or hockey stick or other implement in his hand, but that he was too old to be one of the high-school or university students. He started walking up the driveway toward the window, looking all shifty, but then he saw me. He turned and ran, yelling, "Someone's home!" Which, you know, kind of blew his cover right there, as WR later pointed out.

So then I thought, "Huh. Why would he care if someone's home?" (Sometimes it takes me a second to connect the dots.) But then I realized that my landlady's car wasn't there, and that it had gotten a bit darker while I was in the kitchen and I hadn't turned any other lights on yet. The house had probably looked dark and empty from the outside. "Wait . . . was that guy and his friends actually planning to try something on a busy street next to a bus stop and a pedestrian walkway when it's still light outside? How stupid could you be??" I ran upstairs and looked out the back window to see if he and his friend(s) were out there, but I couldn't see anyone. And I started compiling a list of physical characteristics for when I called the cops.

Caucasian male
Mid to late 20s
Short dark hair
Stocky build
Under 6 foot (I'm no good with heights. To me most people are just "tall.")
Wearing black trainer jacket and dark jeans
Carrying some English-type club

Then I noticed Cicada on IM so I told her what happened and asked if I should call the cops. She confirmed that yes, I should, if only to report that there's suspicious activity in the area. So I did and I told them and I felt very much like a concerned and responsive citizen. Only then they asked if I was alone in the house, and that's when my stomach sort of dropped a bit. Because logically I had nothing to worry about anymore--it's not like they would go back to a house they knew wasn't empty.

But I started thinking about what would have happened if I'd been in the kitchen a minute longer. I would have been alone in there when they smashed in the front window. Of if I'd gone upstairs a minute earlier, and if they were instead going around to the back door, which would have been smarter because they wouldn't have been seen as easily. But I wouldn't have known anyone was there until I heard the door open and 2+ men come in. And then I would have had to decide whether to risk going downstairs and surprising them in the hope that they would run away, or whether I should stay upstairs in my room and call the police on my cell phone and just wait for them while the people downstairs break and damage things and possibly touch eat my chocolate chips and then make their way upstairs, with me not knowing if they had guns or knives or what (and yes, some people do have guns, even if this is England).

And that started making me feel a bit rattled. I texted WR and he called and I told him what happened. He was pretty impressed once he knew I was okay and everything. "Wow, you are an official victim of a crime! I've never even been a victim of a crime!" Which is funny, since he lives on Drug Dealer Street. But he came over to make me feel safe again, and it worked. And because I could have died, we watched the first segment of Pride and Prejudice, which made me feel lots better. I think WR hasn't quite caught the vision yet, but he will. And he did laugh several times. And sometimes it was over actual funny things, instead of the non-funny things like the first words of the film. WR burst into loud hooting laughter and started making fun of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy's accents. "Ew yaaarsh, it's nothing to PEMbuhLEEEHH, fwah wwrar yeerrsh BLAH!" And I had to tell him to shut his face or there would be no sausage rolls or pitcher of gravy with a straw in on Sunday.

But, back to the part where the house was almost burgled. Needless to say, I am very very grateful that I came out of the kitchen when I did. And I have to attribute it to the Lord looking out for me. I'm so lazy about remembering to pray over my food when I'm by myself, but last night I remembered to. In the prayer I also asked for health and safety, and 3 seconds later I walked out and startled a burgler. So let that be a lesson to everyone about why we bless our food.