Many years ago, . . . in college, . . . came home after midterms one night, . . . and it was late.
Door to the house was hard to open without making a huge racket, . . . but I fairly managed it, . . . started up the carpeted stairs to our bedroom. Got about half way up and slipped, . . . falling back down about 6 steps.
Figured, what the heck, . . . just tromped up the stairs and turned on the light at the top. I looked over at the bed where my wife sat crosslegged, . . . with MY Colt .38 revolver, . . . and she basically said, "It's just a good thing that it was you."
NEVER tried sneaking in after that, . . . just came in the house and didn't worry about the noise. Still do it that way too.
May God bless,
Dwight
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