Sick.

Sick.
I was sick last weekend.
Starting Sunday night---Damon got sick.
he's still sick.
It's Thursday, and he is at home.

So, two cops show up at my door.
Damon, who is still sick, opens the door.
The police ask if I live there.
He says "yes."
He asked if everything was okay, and says that the police didn't say anything---they just looked at each other.
Damon said that he FREAKED OUT b/c they didn't answer, and he thought something HORRIBLE had happened to me since we hadn't spoken on the phone all day.
So, then it just turns out that they are subpoena'ing (spelling on that???) to testify in a court case (job related).
They are sick.
Those two cops---just sick to freak him out like that.

...but of course...when I get a 911 page to my home number & I'm at work. I rush to the phone, Damon says that some cops are there looking for me...and what is my 1st thought---"Well, was the HOUSE CLEAN?"

I'm such girl-neat-freak-control-freak.
I can't help it that I like a clean house. Sue me.