Double- and triple-checking the house doors.
Beeping the car alarm six times. Walking ten feet and asking, "Did I beep it?"
I like to think it's an endearing habit that Mr. KK finds totes adorable*.
Last night, in the middle of the night, our house alarm went off.
Mr. KK ran to the keypad and said, "The motion detector in the basement made it go off."
Holy fucking shit.
And then Mr. KK shut the alarm and cancelled the call to the emergency service, told me he'd be right back, and LOCKED ME IN THE BEDROOM.
Are you fucking kidding me???
I heard him rustling around the kitchen (getting a knife?) and then open the basement door and slowly make his way down the creaky stairs. What if a murderer was waiting for him? What if they put a chloroform cloth over his nose and mouth? What if...
And then I fell asleep.
I fell asleep when there was a possible axe murderer in my house, and my husband might be walking into his trap.
It seems I'm so incredibly exhausted from work, that my neurosis are cured.
For the time being, anyway.
*This may be my misperception.