Millie and Me

Killer in the Attic

For some strange reason, I get this totally irrational fear that there's someone living in my attic.  You know the freaky sounds houses sometimes make?  It'll be the middle of the night, all is quiet, then you hear a creak that sounds like a footstep, or worse, a BAM!  Of course, the BAM! is usually just something like the ice maker doing its work in the freezer, but my brain turns it into some psycho in the attic, who is of course just waiting for me to fall asleep before coming downstairs and killing us all (let me take this moment to remind you I did start this by saying it was totally irrational...).
Anyway, it just occurred to me that the pull-down stairs to the attic (the only entrance) are completely blockaded by my massive packing box collection.  Of course, I didn't set out to collect packing boxes -- the boxes are all there because I procrastinate like crazy, and I haven't broken them all down from the move yet (heck, there are still boxes I haven't unpacked from the move!) to dispose of them.  That lovely task is on the to-do list....far, far down on the to-do list.  But the point is, there's no way in hell anyone could make it down those stairs without breaking their neck, so procrastination wins again.
Procrastination is Saving My Life.
Of course, when I excitedly told my mom that my packing box collection was saving me from the imaginary killer in the attic, she asked "why don't you just put a lock on the stairs?"
Damn.  Now why didn't I think of that?