Tuesday, February 10, 2015

The police knocked on my door...

Image via Creative Commons Rusty Stewart
... and I freaked out.

What makes it worse though is that I wasn't even home at the time. They left a business card in my door with a phone number to call.

I saw that little blue and white logo tucked in to my security door and started to panic slightly. Pathetic.

But wait, there's more. Yes, it gets even lamer: It wasn't even my name on the business card! It was some dude called Charles they were looking for. That's not his real name, I just didn't want to upset a man who might be a baddie by blogging about him.

Nevertheless, I was still anxious.

I immediately think I'm in trouble despite being a generally law abiding citizen (except for that time I went straight ahead from the turning lane and got a fucking $300 fine!).

I don't know if it is a left over Catholic guilt thing, a fear of authority, or just plain craziness, but I become tense any time I go through a speed camera, drive near a police car, have to call the po' po' or, as we've now established, get one of their business cards in my door. 

I rang the number provided and spoke to the detectives from the Major Crime Squad to learn they were investigating a homicide and they want to ask this dude Charlie some questions. Gulp. My address is his last known address. Double GULP.

They might want to talk to him as a witness, but straight away I think A MAN WHO LIVED HERE MURDERED SOMEONE. The police will want to search my house and yard. They'll find remnants from the dog's bone snacks and look at me all suspicious like. 


Because my brain is stupid. 

They'll shine a torch in my eyes and ask me where I was on the 5th of January ten years ago and I'll be all "I don't even know where I was last Tuesday, how am I meant to remember ten years?!" Then I'll do a nervous laugh and they'll be "why are you nervous?" and I'll say BECAUSE YOU'RE THE POLICE!!!!!!!!!!!

It makes sense. One of my dearest friends is a Detective. She was my bridesmaid! I'm not scared of her... much. 

Fuck, it's exhausting being me. 

Do you freak out for no reason a bit when you see police?

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