While on my honeymoon with my late husband, one night we stayed in a ground floor room with patio doors. The curtains were open on one side and closed on the other. After entering the room I was fixated on the idea that someone was hiding outside behind the closed curtain with an axe.
Because, you know, axe murderers are such a common thing.
I couldn't move or relax until my late husband went and checked the closed curtain. He, of course, found this terribly funny and took as long as possible to go over and check behind the curtain. He even toyed with the curtain just to torture me a little (which I'm sure I had coming).
All of the sudden he yanked the curtain open with a flourish. I cringed.
There was no one there.
And all was right with the world for another day.
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