...Which is why I was concerned when I heard it ring at 3am this morning and both Henry and my husband were snoring next to me. I listened for the sound that had woken me up and heard another rustle of the bell. Then another.
*snort*... silence... Jon tensed up, "What is it?"
I explained what I had heard and that Henry was asleep next to me (as if his blissful snores weren't enough evidence). We had a quick, whispered conversation. Jon volunteered that it might have been an earthquake (these things happen out here), but I could tell he wasn't about to go back to sleep. He leaned over and I heard a round chamber. He slowly (too slowly for my adrenaline-induced brain) got up and almost as slowly walked out into the hallway. I pulled the covers up to my chin and prayed it was an earthquake. I could hear Jon walking around, checking rooms.
Meanwhile, Henry got up and sleepily walked over to see what Jon was doing. He stayed in the hallway, "investigating", for 20 seconds, then waltzed back in and streeeetched lazily before jumping onto his bed and settling down to fall back asleep. Useless dog.
Finally, I heard the back door being checked (it sounded locked) and lights going on. Jon came back in and everything was fine. I felt guilty. I also had to pee. Jon accompanied me to the bathroom. We talked. I apologized. I blamed the earthquake. Jon volunteered that I may have been hearing things, but neither of us could get to sleep for a while, so Jon read the manual on our alarm system, which will now be used.
This is not a far cry from the nights in college when we would call Megan's then-boyfriend to walk through the house with a butcher knife to make sure all the axe-murders were somewhere else. That's what good men do. They humor the women who are certain they heard something and who scare the crap out of their men. That's what makes them good men. Also, that's what makes the women feel a little guilty and blame it on an earthquake.
I made Jon pancakes this morning. He deserved it.