Some preamble here….I’ve been listening to a lot of podcasts in the car when I’m on the road for work. Specifically, true crime podcasts. And when you combine my love of true crime with a career in social work and growing up with a batsh!t crazy mother, who assumed everyone was a potential abductor or murderer, I come by my suspicious ways naturally. But my true crime obsession seems to be adding an extra level of paranoia to my every day life. Now, wherever I go, I assume that garbage bag on the side of the road contains body parts, an abandoned car equals a missing person, that guy pumping gas next to me in the minivan, oh, he totally looks murdery, and at any moment, I could disappear. Sidenote: Love ya’ll in case I die.

So, last weekend I arrived home late afternoon after my kids’ football games. They went with Baby Daddy and I was all alone. Pants off. Burrito bowl about to go down. I stroll past my kitchen and spot something…what the?! Hold up now. There is a box on my counter that was NOT there when I left. Holy sh!t! Someone has been inside my house! Is someone still in the house? My mind starts racing. Should I barmp my car alarm? Should I yell? What do the podcasts say to do? My mind has gone completely blank. I really should have made that “If I Go Missing” folder. Damn The Bachelorette for taking up all my spare time!

I walk into kitchen to investigate and see that it is a box of donuts.

A box of donuts that was not there when I left that morning.

I proceed to eat mystery donuts while I think about the potential murderer lurking in the shadows of my house. If I am about to be abducted, at least they brought snacks. Chomp chomp. They seem like pretty good people luring me in with donuts. Chomp chomp chomp. They even got my favorite kind with toasted coconut. I suddenly realize I may have been the kind of kid who’d go with strangers if they offered me pastries.  Hell, I may be the kind of adult who would go with strangers for pastries. Candy can suck it but wave a croissant at me and I am for sure getting in the van.

As I eat my abductor donuts, I think about how a podcast about my vanishing will play out. They always re-trace the missing person’s steps, you know. They will examine who I spent time with…look into how I spent my time…and I start thinking I haven’t really lived a very provocative life. My true crime podcast will be all: ‘She parented. She social worked. She went on a lot of terrible dates. And she spent an excessive amount of time at cafes drinking almond milk lattes. It appears she was lactose intolerant.’ They’ll look into my exes and think I must’ve been drunk most of the time. But no, I (mostly) made those decisions stone cold sober. Chomp chomp chomp. Delicious donuts. Hopefully not the poison variety.

And then it hits me!

Not the poison.

I know where the mystery donuts came from! My sister told me she was coming by while I was at football to borrow my drill. I completely forgot because my son replied to her text for me. She knows the way to my heart is through toasted coconut. Turns out I’m not going to get murdered in my underwear while bloated from too many donuts!! Yippee!!

In that moment of relief, I decide I should begin to lead a more nefarious lifestyle…just in case. Liven up my future true crime podcast.

Maybe I’ll join a gang.

Or start laundering money.

Or I’ll really shake things up and hang out at a different location of Starbucks.

In all seriousness, babes, be careful out there. As my favorite podcast host, Ashley Flowers, from Crime Junkies says: “Be weird. Be rude. Stay safe.”

And probably don’t eat strange donuts, until you confirm that you aren’t being abducted.

With high fives and cussing, and coconut on my boobs,

Nicole xx


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