Scaredy Cat

I have a confession.  I am a SCAREDY CAT!!!!  Massively, huge, scaredy cat. 
I marvel at my friends who's husbands travel often.  How do they sleep knowing the Boogey Man is out there waiting to get them?! 
I spend a good portion of my summer being annoyed with Doug because he's gone and I am spending my nights alone.  Ohhhh, doesn't that sound romantic?  It's not.  Believe me.  I don't wish he was here so I could snuggle up to him.  I wish he was here to protect me from the Boogey Man who is lurking in my closets, under my bed, outside my window, you get the picture.  
Just this evening- I had a close call.
We had just got back from Charleston, I had the car unpacked, we'd eaten dinner, made a few Lego creations, changed diapers, and kids were in bed.  We'd been in the house- all over the house.  I'd even checked the closets, and bathtubs- no Boogey Man.  So after Andrew went to bed, I was in the kitchen sneaking a few of his Kit Kats (they've been in the fridge for weeks now- he's forgotten all about them!) and I swear I hear foot steps.  I am so certain I hear foot steps I said, "Andrew!  What are you doing?  You're supposed to be in bed!"  But he's not in the living room.  Not in the bathroom, hallway, my room.  He's in bed, asleep. 
YIKES!
I grabbed the nearest weapon- a Mag Lite and my cell phone. 
No- I didn't call the police!  Jeez- I am a scaredy cat, not an aggravation to our civil servants!  (only to Doug).  I called my dad.  If you know me, then you might know my Dad lives an hour and forty minutes away.   What the heck is he going to do if the Boogey Man is in my house?  Give me moral support.  Duh.   My Dad is one of the only people I know that would: a) understand I need moral support to check all the closets, and under the beds, b) not laugh at me for needing moral support, and c) help me not take myself too seriously- so that I don't really get scared. 
Obviously the house was clear of the Boogey Man, however there is the lingering fear that he's still out there . . . waiting.