the tale of the broken window

I got terribly scared out of my wits.

Last Sunday morning, at about 5 to 10 minutes before the clock struck 3am, I was awoken by the sound of paper being punched (yes, punched). Instinctively, I looked up the broken glass window above my bed only to see the newspaper I used to temporarily cover the hole removed, and a hand groping for the handlebar. I tried to think fast. Should I scream for help? I didn't, and just settled to pretend I'm having coughing fits, so loud it hurt my throat. That was enough to scare the man away. But I know I had to do something to really make sure he knows that someone busted his attempt at robbery (?). So after about 20 seconds of paralysis, I opened my lamp, went straight to my mom's room and told her what happened. She immediately looked for a better way to cover the gaping hole of my bedroom window (thanks to rascal kids for breaking it). Still terrified of what just took place, I hurriedly secured the large cardboard with lots of packaging tape. Then, my mom rushed to check if all doors in the house are closed. She also instructed me to keep my flourescent light on, never mind if I'm used to sleeping without lights. And because of that incident, I was forced to wake Francis up to tell him what happened. We talked for almost an hour, a good thing since I never wanted to go back to sleep after that disturbing incident. But of course, I had to let him sleep and myself, too. Thus, I resolved to change my sleeping position and face that window, just in case the creeper strikes again (I pray not!).

Come Sunday, we asked our ever-reliable carpenter to fix the window by placing this plank and securing the handlebars. So even if that means having a dark room (I admire the morning sunlight whenever it seeps through that window), I'm fine with the temporary fixture, just as long as I don't see anymore groping hands. And thank the Lord for making me a light sleeper. Otherwise, I would've woken up to see not only a hand.

And so these days, all of us in the house get all jumpy and paranoid whenever we hear a little thug on the roof or just a mere scratch at the gate. It's better to be jumpy than sorry.