Frannie did a walk-by our bedroom doors last night.
Both S and I were in bed, wide awake and reading. I was finishing up an old Patterson novel on a group of kids who fly. S was reading a Georgia travel brochure.
The girls were 4 hours into their bedtime.
No trucks drove by. No wind outside. Neither the AC nor heater were running. Dishwasher had run it's cycles and was now dormant. Computers all in sleep mode. Laundry was done for the day and both washer and dryer were at rest.
TV was off. Fax machine was off. Nothing in the oven, crockpot or toaster. We have a coffee maker but don't use it too often.
Our small town was asleep. Our street was asleep. Our house was asleep...almost.
Seems "Frannie" was apparently in the mood for a stroll.
We both turned to see what it was. Sorry, we didn't see anything. But both S and I definitely heard 5 distinct foosteps shuffle along the hardwood floor just outside our wide open double sliding bedroom pocket doors.
We both counted them and after all was unsaid and undone, we looked at each other and said simultaneously, "5 steps."
I've normally discounted the other late-night footsteps my wife and I have heard to the musings of two extremely tired parents and the gray matter games that occur between states of consciousness and semi-consciousness.
But this time we were both wide awake. And anyone who lives with hardwood floors knows the sound of stockinged feet walking on them.
Then again, maybe the water heater kicked on in the cellar, causing a slight shift in the ambient temperature which in turn created a ripple effect under the floorboards, making them creak along a logical path of movement in the grain and placement of the wood planks.