I've never been a real fan of being alone overnight. (Uh, you never woulda' guessed huh?) So it makes no sense that I marry men who travel all the time, does it?
Actually, I'm much better now than I used to be. When my children were very young, I would get into a complete panic about someone breaking in. I took to sleeping with a very sharp knife under my pillow, and usually staying awake until dawn.
The sharp knife under the pillow was not my best idea ever. Grabbing under the pillow in my sleep rendered me one bloody mess, requiring a trip to the ER and a tetnus shot plus several stitches. After that hard lesson learned, I opted to put a hammer under the pillow, but I was not sure if I would be able to find a nail when the time came.
And it wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when. Now I might add that I had begun reading a lot of bloody mysteries at this point of my development. Turning off the lights after reading about serial killers who climb through windows and do in the whole family is not really all that relaxing.
There is one other consideration here. I did have Willie. Willie was my 125 pound German Shepherd who would not even let my husband touch me if he was in the room. (Yes, I did like Willie better than I liked my husband at this point, but that's another story.)
My husband traveled frequently and so I got used to just not sleeping. I turned on every light in the house every night, and slept with Willie in the hallway on a quilt with my hammer under my pillow for when they came. (They? He? She?) Never mind. I was ready.
We had a 3 story house on the side of a hill, so there were lots of areas that could be breached you understand. One night I was so panicked that I actually called the police because I thought I heard something. A few minutes later, the police arrived, but unfortunately, Willie would not let them come in to search. Kind of laughing, the cops told me I had nothing to worry about. Uh huh. What about the guy who could slip Willie that poisoned meat and then what, huh?
Fast forward quite a few years. I still get the heebee jeebees at night once in a while. When Alex is away, I do sleep with the 357 next to my bed. And, Harry and Honey patrol the yard and the house all night long. Before Alex leaves, he always asks me if I want the 12 gauge shotgun too. (What does the fool man think I'm going to do? Invade some third world country?)
The 357 is not really my favorite gun. I have others that I do better with at the range. The advantage of the 357 is that you do not have to worry about a "safety" being on or off.
I have always really liked the shotgun approach most of all. You do not need to aim really. And people know it means business. The problem is that it's very heavy. And you might end up taking out a prowler but you would also maybe get the guys across the street who are your friends.
Why I get this irrational fear sometimes I don't know. When Alex is home and we hear something, I'm the one who goes to look and see what it is while he cowers in bed and pulls the covers over his head. (Okay, I'm exaggerating. He simply says, "go back to sleep" and leaves it at that.)
It's better than my first husband who told me "You go look. They'll just rape you but they might kill me."