The Unwary

Tyler D. Ewing, the woman perpetually convinced she's on the very cusp of burglarly, attack and pillage had this to say from bed when I entered the house late Sunday night (and I quote):

"Zzzzzzzzz. Haammphhhhh. Snaaaarrkkkkkggglee. Zzzzzzzzzz."

I've included a brief graphical representation of my movements about the house upon my return from a long weekend of sporting pursuits (below):

I tromped in and out of the house multiple times - slamming both doors each time, opened the fridge, walked in our bedroom and took one shoe off. Then, I sat down and scratched a tick bite on my leg. Yawned. Walked out. Later I brought my overnight bag into the bedroom, dumped its contents on the floor, took my other shoe off, turned the fan on, walked outside, closed the fridge, and came back in with my dopp kit. I rummaged around in my kit for a toothbrush, brushed my teeth and simultaneously texted my cousin Maggie.  Finally, Tyler rolled over and said "Wello! Well, look who's back!"

"I've been home for a half hour. I've slammed the back door 5 times and turned on every light in the house.  You have not so much as stirred."

"Oh? Yeah. Hmm. Yawn. I thought I heard something."