I love to be scared. I love true crime TV. I love scary movies. I love murder mysteries. I love urban legends . Most of all I love scary stories. I’ve been listening to the absolutely amazing NoSleep Podcast pretty much constantly lately. Normally I pride myself on how I never let the stories get to me. They’re all in good fun and none of them are real. Cut to last night circa 8:00 pm. Not to get too personal, but this is my special lady time of the month and I 1000% needed a Reese’s Peanut Buttercup sundae from Friendly’s. It was imperative that I had an obscene amount of forbidden chocolate ice cream covered in peanut butter sauce immediately if not sooner. So, this being an emergency, I decided I would drive my ass to Friendly’s and take advantage of their new drive through (for real though, Friendly’s having a drive through is the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my entire life. I don’t know what I did to please the gods, but I hope I never stop doing it). I walked down our very well lit back staircase only to find that the outside light was broken and the light in our garage was turned off. I suddenly had very vivid memories of every scary woods/girl alone at night/vengeful spirit story I had listened to and spent a solid 45 seconds debating whether I should make a run to my car (where the dude with the hook was definitely hiding in my back seat) or turn around and run back upstairs (where there was no ice cream or peanut butter sauce and only sad, broken dreams). Being the badass I am, I decided I would use my cellphone as a flashlight and embark on this journey to slay a dragon, save a damsel or dam…er…dude in distress and get my damn ice cream. So, being the opposite of stealthy and quick on my feet, I managed to get to the the garage and while trying to find the light switch, proceeded to knock over a minimum of all the things, and didn’t actually find the light switch. I decided to say fuck it because at this point, I’m so embarrassed of myself that my desire to be a non-coward is burning with the fire of a thousand suns. I made it into my car without incident, and set off on the adventure of a lifetime. I get to Friendly’s, order my sundae, feel super proud of myself for not being murdered by a ghost or the dude in my backseat, and head back home. As I’m getting out of my car, I have my eyes on the prize. Here’s the plan; 1- get inside my house. 2- grab a spoon. 3- eat all the ice cream and then feel super pleased  with myself and all the good decisions I’ve recently made. Here’s what actually happened; 1- convince myself that I saw something moving on the side of the garage when I was pulling in. 2- notice my iPhone is still plugged in and I’m literally listening to a story about a woman who is attacked by demon/ghost while walking to her apartment. 3-decide I live in this car now. It will make a good home for me. I’m not very tall so I can sleep on the backseat and my job has a gym in the basement so I can shower there. Hello, new home. I think we’re going to be very happy together. I shall not think of my nice warm bed or my very sweet husband. This is my life. Time to embrace it! I hope the guy with the hook is neat and tidy! After spending some time figuring out how I was going to make this whole car/home thing work, I realized something. I had ice cream in the car with me, but I had no spoon. What kind of monster doesn’t give you a spoon with your take-out ice cream? Is this some kind of cruel joke? It slowly dawned on me that I would have to leave the car, otherwise I’d never get my ice cream. I had to be brave. Very slowly, I gathered my purse and my precious cargo, took a deep breath and proceeded to run like my life depended on it. The moment I reached the steps unscathed, I felt stupid. Of course there was not a ghost hanging out in my backyard (unless there is, in which case, I’m sorry ghost. I’m sorry we don’t have a pool or backyard games, or even lawn chairs, your legs must be very tired and you must be very bored). I made it into the house safe and sound and proceeded to eat every last bit of that sundae. It was glorious. It’s rare that I feel like I’ve accomplished something great and meaningful while I’m eating ice cream. I felt like I earned this one though. I didn’t get murdered, I didn’t accidentally summon a demon, I wasn’t approached by any supernatural beings. I’m very brave. So the moral of this story is that I am, in fact, a super scaredy cat. The other moral of the story is that the NoSleep podcast is really good, you should listen to it. The other, other moral of the story is that I’m willing to do just about anything for ice cream and I’m not ashamed of that.