Home Alone

In case you didn't know by now, I have a pretty sweet deal as far as living arrangements go. I live in a small, garage apartment attached to a anything but small, Clayton mansion. For free. My rent is paid by dogsitting/housesitting when my 'landlords' are out of town. They are unbelievably nice people, too. And they are French, which I just love about them.
I dogsit all the time. I stay at other people's houses and it rarely bothers me, perhaps because there is usually a dog sleeping somewhere close to alert me to danger if need be. But for some reason, when I am staying in my own apartment while my 'landlords' are out of town, I get really freaked out.
Maybe it's because their house is so large that I am pretty sure most burglars would love to get inside (were it not for the super terrific security system they have). Maybe it's because there is so much land on their property that I'm not sure I could outrun a rapist without getting really tired. Maybe it's because my imagination is incredibly overactive and has always worked against me late at night (i.e. slept in my little sister's room for 3 months when I was THIRTEEN after I saw Jurassic Park b/c I was worried a T-Rex was going to give me the creepy eye stare through my window; slept with a knife sharpener under my pillow for the good part of a year after I saw Buffy, the Vampire Slayer movie; Continually had bad dreams about a Land Shark being under my bed, well into my college years.)
So the moral of the story is, I'm a little freaked out when I have to stay here alone. Not that I ever have overnight guests, just when I realize that an alarm system will alert the police, but might not stop a bullet from piercing my brain if they don't get here in time.
Wow, now I'm really starting to freak myself out. Time for a little Gilmore Girl's marathon. That usually chases the monsters away long enough for me to fall asleep.