If I'd had a BB gun...

...or a pellet gun, or a .22, or, you know, a double-barrel shotgun, my neighbor would currently be minus one security light on her house. There I was sleeping the sleep of the weary when, at 12:35AM, a blinding bright light was shining through my 2nd story bedroom window. My first instinct was to roll off my bed, slather camouflage on my face, dress in black, grab my Rambo knife, stick it in my teeth, and belly crawl to Kevin's crib to save him from the helicopter with the spotlight and gunners ready to spew bullets through my window and rain carnage down on my household. After all, what the fuck else could it be? Yeah. It was my neighbor's security light. Which, BTW, is brighter than the sun and more difficult to look into than an eclipse. I put my sunglasses on and looked down into her driveway to see if anyone was fucking with her Jag or trying to get into her house, or if anyone was rappelling down the side of my house. Nothing. After about 10 minutes, it turned off. At 2AM, it turned on again! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I, again, squelched my urge to act like I was in the Special Ops and put the pillow over my head. At 4:30, again it happened. This time Kevin woke up and started screaming. No doubt, he started having the same feelings of survival as I because he was clutching his little camouflage hat in his hands when I went to him. He would not go back to sleep. The light did not go off this time, either. Finally, after about 45 minutes, it dawned on me (Give me a break. I had a rough night) to cover the freakin' window with a blanket. The very second the window was covered, Kevin finally shut the hell up and fell asleep. I'm leaving that thing up there for now....