The rapist in my box spring

[Warning: This story is so dumb, but I laughed the whole time I wrote it...probably out of sheer terror relief more than anything...]

This story requires a few prefaces:
Preface 1: One of the major perks in owning a cat is that you can explain away random bumps and noises by blaming them all on her. Strange rustling bag noise? The cat. Unidentified thump in the other room? The cat. Dogs wake you up and warn you that you're about to be killed by an intruder, and then you watch yourself get killed. Cats lull you into an enjoyable false sense of security so you sleep through the whole thing.

Preface 2: This is me not being glib for 30 seconds. Ready, go! --> So I'm fairly certain Silas saw an angel about a month ago. It was the night Rob was gone (and I wrote this - it comes with a fantastic spreadsheet, if you haven't read it... dang it! GLIB.) Non-glib attempt #2: Yes, so anyways, Silas came down in the morning, asking me about the "big yellow thing" and had I seen it and what was it. Long story short, he saw something big and bright and yellow standing by the side of his bed in the middle of the night, and all Silas kept saying with intense earnestness (and a big smile on his own face) was, "He SO happy. SO happy. He look at me and was happy. And then I close my eyes and open them and he gone! You see it, Yanka? You see it, mommy? Where he go? He SO happy!" All day long he talked about it. Whether it was an actual vision or a stunning dream, it brought such comfort to Silas (who is petrified of the dark) that I just have to assume it was sent by God to bring comfort and make His presence known. To try again to make a long story short, I've been thinking about angels and spiritual warfare lately. How could you not if your 2 1/2 year-old son saw something that impacted him SO much? (Wow. That was a heavy and involved preface. Aaaand back to glib - go!)

Preface 3: I was dumb and broke down. In the spirit of "Yeah, sisters watching a movie together!" I let my sister Kayla talk me into watching Paranormal Activity last week. She spent the entire movie laughing at me moaning in horror and jumping out of my skin while wildly grabbing for her arm.

(This is like being in high school when your English teacher forced you to fill out an entire worksheet on the suuuuper boring preface of a book because she knew you wouldn't read it otherwise. The worst.)

Without further ado, THE STORY:
So I was watching a movie by myself in bed late last night - both Rob and Kayla were gone for the night. Annoyingly, Orange Cat begins to sharpen her claws on our box spring frame under the bed. (First off, she has no claws, so I'm not sure what she accomplishes in doing this. Secondly, it's always the most aggressive THUM THUM, THUM THUM, THUM THUM ever. It's serious business, this sharpening your non-existent claws stuff.) So my bed's trembling, and I'm all annoyed, and it just...keeps...going. And lasts long enough that I have a split-second doubt that it actually is Orange. So when it stops, I pop my head under the bed to pull her out and ease my suddenly troubled mind, and

she's. not. there.

So I go to the living room to investigate and find her, drugged by warm blanket deliciousness, curled up and asleep. Trying to stay composed, I scoop her up and return to bed. (Okay, this may have not been the most intelligent decision. And I'm the one yelling at movies, "Don't go down there! Why are you going down there?? Do you not see the basement light doesn't work???")

First thought: There is a rapist hiding inside my box spring. While that sounds somewhat implausible in the morning light, you have to understand that portions of the bottom mesh are all ripped to shreds by our old cat, Gray Cat (our animal names are somewhat underwhelming, I know), who liked to crawl inside the hollow box spring and sleep. There has been something in there before, so who's to stop a person from trying it?

Which led me to my second thought: Kayla is hiding inside my box spring. And she wants to scare the living daylights out of me in the spirit of Paranormal Activity bonding.

Which led me to my third thought: My bed just shook. By itself. In the dark. (You see where my prefaces are leading?)

I sat, paralyzed by fear, in the very center of my bed. The most important thing (in my scared-senseless mind) was that I did NOT discuss it out loud. Rapist? He would know I knew he was there and come out. Something otherworldly? I didn't want to betray my fear. And, hello, look what happened in Paranormal Activity. So I texted Rob. And I texted my night owl sister Jane. And I sent my parents an email. And no one responded.

So then I did the only thing I could think of: I started singing songs to Jesus.

I sang all the hymns I could remember, all the newer songs from church, anything...for about a half an hour. I was either hoping the rapist would have a come-to-Jesus moment in my box spring or I'd gather enough spiritual courage to actually stay in bed and go to sleep, safe in the knowledge that it was all in God's hands. Just me, in the middle of my bed, wildly looking around, while my pathetic voice sang aloud.

And when I felt calmer and could no longer think of songs, I went to my other all-important resource, Facebook. Maybe if I looked at cute baby pictures for a while, all would be okay?? So I picked up my phone, opened Facebook, and was stunned by my news feed.

It had been an earthquake, of all things. No rapist. No evil spirit. An earthquake?? Who thinks of such things in Texas?

You know when you lose your wallet for two weeks and suddenly on a whim you decide to swing by Meijer and see if they had it all this time and you find out they DID? And suddenly your life is right again, and you're happy for no reason other than the fact your wallet was raised from the dead? Take that and times it by 490282. THAT'S how awesome I felt. There are almost no words.

C'mon, Texas! Why you gotta scare a Jesus-loving Midwestern girl senseless?

I do have to admit that I skipped washing my face before going to sleep - I was not about to bend over in a prone position over the sink with my eyes full of stinging soap in front of a mirror. I don't watch horror movies that often, but I'm not stupid.