I really don't know why these things happen to me, but late last night - I'm talking the dead of night, the witching hour, prime-time for weird occurences - I'm out cold, and a freaking balloon bursts in my bedroom. A balloon! A big one, too. Talk about major panic, confusion... My heart was pounding so fast I could hardly catch my breath. I didn't know what was going on. Gunshot. Someone breaking the window. And, of course, the Hub is out of town, so it was just me and my daughter.
Anyway, after I mustered the courage to get out of the bed, grabbing the iron from the ironing board in my room (b/c I never put it away :D), I crept with my weapon through the house checking to see what the hell had happened. Couldn't find anything amiss, and then when I went back into the bedroom I saw the skin of the balloon in the middle of the floor - ah, the culprit, I deduced.
Strange thing about it was that the balloon (one of many my daughter had blown up and tied a few days ago) had no reason to pop. It wasn't helium, so it didn't rise to ceiling and hit something. There was no air movement in the room, so it couldn't have drifted around and bumped something. The bedroom door was closed, meaning the cats were not in the room, so they couldn't have done it.
Needless to say, it took me a while to get back to sleep.
Never one to let an experience I can use go to waste, I'm going to present this to the Hub as yet another reason (among many) to get a puppy - one that will grow into a big, strong guard dog - something a bit more intimidating than an iron! Did I mention I want a dog? :D