Today's Muse: I seemed to have gnawed off my - OH HOLY SHIT.

I keep a baseball bat next to my bed, within easy reach, along with my screwdriver set and my glasses. The bat is a light, purple plastic affair, well-weathered and broken in. It is held in place, when not in use, by a metal-wrought frame next to the head of my bed.

It's there just in case.

Not in case someone attempts to kill me while I'm in bed, no no. Just in case that night is, the night.

The night when I go away.

When I was a wee chit of a Missy, I used to wait up at night in my bed with the covers pulled up to my chin. Waiting to be taken away to some far-off land, some new fantastical world. Like the children in The Chronicles of Narnia, or the kids in Digimon Adventures, or even the hapless chap in The War of the Flowers. I wanted so much to be whisked off in a blaze of light to terrifying and outlandish realms, armed with only the head on my shoulders.

I wanted an adventure.

Every night I would wait. I would wait, and play out all possible scenerios in my tiny fanatical brain: What to do if I was confronted by a beast with dripping fangs? (Duck, and run, avoid trees) What to do if faced with a royal execution? (This one I'm not sure. Pee, maybe.)

So I started to prepare. I would place things I felt I might need within grabbing reach. At one point, this grew to include a coil of nylon rope, a bloody heavy torch (which doubled as a weapon) and a box of matches. With this, I waited.

And I waited.

I grew older. I knew it was futile. But somewhere inside this tiny, fanatical brain of mine a small, tinny voice kept at it: "You never know! It might happen! Best to be prepared, you don't want to be caught unawares!"

So, I keep a baseball bat next to my bed, along with a screwdriver set and my glasses.

And I crawl, each night, into bed to wait.

Always good to be prepared.