friday the 18th (meant to be a play on friday the 13th, but not funny)

Part of my morning routine revolves waking up to a rather freezing house (I like to sleep when it is cold—with the fan going and everything), waking up, to said freezing house, is less pleasant. I stumble from bed to the bathroom, where I immediately turn on the heater. Typically, I put toothpaste on my toothbrush and sit on the toilet while brushing my teeth, dozing in and out while the heater warms my feet. Usually, I then go let the dogs in so that they can have some interaction in the morning. I return to the bathroom, start the hot water to fill up the tub (also to help me wake up and be warm). While the tub is filling, I turn off the bathroom lights, the dogs stretch out over the cold tile. I knell prostrate before the heater and pray. No, not to the heater, smart ass. Then it is time to get ready. (And yes, I tell you all this right now because I really want to go back to bed. It has been one of those weeks were I have felt completely sleep deprived, even though I am typically getting six or more hours of sleep every night.
This morning, I had barely forced myself out of bed, I was sitting there brushing my teeth and I heard huffing and snorting outside of my bathroom door that connects to the kitchen. Nothing quite wakes you up like something breathing in an aggressive manner outside your door in the dark. I was barely alert enough to recognize the bathroom, let alone try to recognize sounds. I sat there, toothbrush hanging limply from my mouth, eyes wide, ears straining to assess if I was hearing things or not.
The huffing came again. My back went ridged. Ok, not crazy. What to do? Do I go wake Chad? Do I stay perfectly still and not make noise? Do I re-enact scenes from a horror movie? I choose the later of course.
My hand reaches out in seeming slow motion and grasps the doorknob that will open my tiny heating world to the kitchen and the source of the huffing. What if there is something or someone on the other side with a knife? All I have is my toothbrush. I turn the knob. Why do people always go towards the glowing red light in the forest that emanates screams? I pull the door open. Breath held. Skin atingle.
Dunkyn and Dolan rush in, cavorting at my feet. Thrilled to see their daddy. Relief rushes through me. Shortly followed by fear again.
How did the dogs get in? I always put them out for the night and shut their doggy door. Someone or something vile has let them enter the house.
After a quick inspection, I discover that it was only my sleep deprivation that allowed to the dogs to stay inside all night.
Finally, the dogs and I re-enter our heated bathroom to continue our interrupted morning. I should have just went back to bed. Who knows what terror awaits this morning…