I was never meant to live alone
We can discuss the theological theories behind God creating Eve because it wasn’t good for man to be alone, or I can tell you my story.
I’m a twin. (See my article on all the dumb questions people ask about that here.) I’ve had a partner in crime since before I took my first breath. We shared a room growing up. Living in a small town, we shared the same friends and the same teachers. We did not, however, share boyfriends, but thanks for asking gross questions
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My sister and I were also college roommates. We were separated when we each did summer missions and the semester I took off because I had mono. Otherwise, for the first 22 years of my life, I was rarely alone. And I liked it that way.
After college, my sister moved to Texas, and I stayed in Mississippi planning my wedding. I lived with my parents for the year between college and marriage. For the only time in my life I truly had my own room. Tt was disastrous.
Halfway through that year, my parents decided to visit my sister (she was in Texas, remember?). They left me home alone. At twenty-two, I should have been able to handle that. We’d recently moved into my parents’ new home in the “country.” They had a fancy alarm system, and I’d be fine.
When I headed to bed the first night home alone, I put the cat into the garage, locked all the doors, and set the alarm. Somewhere around 5 a.m. I awoke to the ear-splitting sound of the alarm. I grabbed the cordless phone (it was 2001), no dial tone.
Surely this meant someone had cut the phone line, and I was about to be murdered.
I grabbed my cell phone and lunged into the bathroom. I locked the door behind me while I called 9-1-1. Then I plugged up my curling iron and pulled out the hairspray. These were my only weapons.
The cat meowed outside the bathroom door, which meant she’d led the intruders straight to me. The 9-1-1 operator called the sheriff’s department and assured me help was on the way. He discovered the alarm company had already called law enforcement, which was why I couldn’t get a dial tone on the phone, the alarm was using it.
About five minutes later, I was still alive and had heard no signs of an intruder. The operator said, “Why don’t we go out there together?”
Together? Sir, I don’t see you helping fend off burglars with a hot iron and Suave hair spray. I declined his offer.
Finally the sheriff’s deputies arrived. I had to leave my bathroom hideout, step over the turncoat cat, and run like mad to the front door to let them in. I just knew I’d be attacked or shot dashing through the living room.
The officers checked every closet and the attic for intruders and found no one. We later discovered that the door from the laundry room into the garage didn’t always latch well when you closed it. When the heat came on, it sucked the door open which triggered the alarm. So basically I was attacked by the HVAC system.
I packed my bags and spent the rest of the week at my Mamaw’s house. See, I told you. God never meant for me to live alone.
