When I was driving home from Joon's last night, I somehow convinced myself that there was someone in the backseat of my car (there wasn't) and that he ... or she--because you can't assume a murderer is a man--was going to put a wire around my neck and kill me.
I hadn't even had any alcohol.
Then I got home, and I somehow convinced myself that, like, a hobo (or something) had made his ... or her way into the house when I was gone and was hiding in my closet or under my bed. I am, sadly, not lying.
My sister Joon likes to scare herself, but I am not a fan of that kind of thrill. When we would go camping, I would wake up in the middle of the night (because I had to pee, naturally) and listen for sounds of an escaped asylum resident in the woods. It was NOT fun, let me tell you.
Anyway, I stayed up most of the night listening for the hobo (... I don't know) and hoping I wouldn't die on the first day of 2008.
I am not right.