Welcome to edition 35. I don’t know why, but I find ‘35’ such a bizarre number. It’s also an age that sounds much older than the numbers in front of it or after it.

Seriously, say this sequence out loud; “34, 36, 99, 35...”

If life was a bingo caller and you had to pick which one it would drop next, based on sound, surely it would be…

35, just alive!

For all those angry people who are pushing forty, we’re all pushing something, so get over it!

Anyways, last week Tootstar was all Hallmark cards and warm fuzzy moments as we celebrated Tootstar.com’s first birthday. This week however is umm, laryngitis, boredom and uninvited/unwelcome houseguests as we enter the terrible twos.

“Life, oh life, oh life, da da da da...” Ironic that a song that was meant to inspire people to get out of bed and celebrate is actually just a constant source of annoyance.

With lyrics like, “I’m afraid of the dark especially when I’m in the park,” it’s not hard to see why. Clearly Des’ree is resonating at a high level of social empathy if that is the only fear she can find in common with the rest of the world.

And so I move along to a fear that might strike a cord with, mmm, 99.9 per cent of you out there.

It is an uninvited, unwelcome houseguest.

Now don’t get me wrong, I actually am a fan of people spontaneously dropping in. But an uninvited house guest (UHG) e.g. friends that drop-in on their way past or a surprise visit from a male suitor, is not the same as an uninvited, unwelcome house guest (UUHG) e.g. someone that you get a bad feeling about.

Hence the most horrible UUHG who could ever come to visit is in fact a burglar, intruder, robber or dangerous, armed person, which I had the pleasure of experiencing this week. (Happy happy, joy joy).

And the weirdest thing is it’s really taught me that it’s all very well and good to put your alarm on but they only work if you listen to it.

All day yesterday I had a strange feeling about going to my parent’s house. They are away and it’s a big house with lots and lots of alarms and security. Still I had this weird vibe. Anyhow as I finished work I jumped in a cab and LUCKED OUT.

As the taxi man pulled up he was stuffing something near his face and then as I got in, he began madly shoving it in his glove box. He then frantically started asking a million random questions; I got the feeling he was high (as a kite) as he began to drive.

I have laryngitis this week and can’t really talk so his questions were clearly to distract me. Yet they just made me feel trapped and claustrophobic. I wanted to move.

As the traffic came to a grinding hold in the gridlock of the city, something kept telling me to get out of the taxi and I felt overcome with uneasiness. I rang three different friends and started to make arrangements that would require me to get out of the cab.

“Want to have a quick drink?”

“Should we go to the gym?” Scratch that.

“Beer and gossip?”

Yet every time as they accepted I decided I was being stupid and that possibly it was just how unnerving someone who is riddled with drugs and constant questioning can be, that was making me feel uneasy.

Still as I pulled up at the house the security gate was locked and all the lights were off.

“No-one was there,” I thought.

So I walked up the hill to the house. Yet with every step closer a feeling overcame me. I could sense someone, but when I looked around no one was there.

My legs were shaking as my new vintage white heels reached the door and I almost lost balance. I gripped the metal handle of the door, punched in the code and the front door opened. The alarm was on and I got really angry with myself.

“All that energy being frightened, “F#ck Head,” I screamed at myself after a million other insults.

In my anger at myself for still being so frightened of bad people I made an amazingly lucky mistake.

I didn’t disarm the alarm properly. I turned off the downstairs bit, but not the top.

I walked straight to the downstairs bit and turned on the computer (I’m a geek) when all of a sudden I heard noises (upstairs) and I knew someone was in the house.

Microseconds later the alarm started going off (they have alarms in every room).

The side door, the bedroom, the kitchen, and the lounge room...

The phone rang; it was the security company.

“Where are you?” asked the man.

“Downstairs,” I answered.

“Have you been upstairs?”

“No,” I replied.

“Emma-Kate,” he said. “Get out of the house. Get out of the house.”

Um, does anyone else find that a bit HOLLYWOOD? FYI, it’s just as scary in real life.

Now in this moment I realised something about myself, and others.

When overcome with fear people ask a lot of questions? Why? You think you need answers from someone else. Generally, you don’t. They only slow you down or take you off the path.

I could have been killed by the time it took me just to trust what I’d already known before I walked in the door. Yet I continued to not move but ask a series of unnecessary questions.

“Who is in the house?” (Um does it matter?)

“Do you think there is someone here?” (Yup, they are literally banging around).

“Where are they?” (No doubt closer to you dim wit).

“Are they are a man or a woman?” (Refer to top question).

“Do you think I should take the back door or front door?” (I already know the answer because:

“Fuck they are in the garden, front door then?”

In the end the operator had to be a little terse.

And now as I look back on the experience I literally want to throw up with nerves. Yet I figure the lesson in it was this: When you ask a lot of questions that you already know the answer to you are ignoring the voice within, the world’s best security guard!

That and it’s a good career choice for me to be a journalist.

Anyways, I think I need to lighten the mood so here is the outcome wrapped in a bit of bad poetry.

I chose the front door
They ran away
The police were called
It was all okay.