Did you lock your door?

I live my life like an assassin on the run. I see danger everywhere I turn.

I close my eyes inside taxis because I expect a collision any minute and I’m not interested in being a witness as to how that collision happened.

I’ll walk an hour before I choose to take that boda-boda. If I am perchance forced to take that death machine, I shall be in near hysterics internally for a good portion of the journey. And it doesn’t matter how late I am-I could be 30 minutes late for the most important interview of my life-I’ll tell the driver to go very slowly: “I’m not in a hurry”, I’ll tell him.

While on said death machine, I’ll be the pesky voice in my rider’s ear, hissing consistently: “Please keep left; don’t overtake; slow down!’ etc etc.

Can’t you see there’s danger ahead?!

If you think all this is a little extreme, you should see me in my living space. That’s where my paranoia has free reign.

I recently had a friend from Switzerland staying with me, and we were about to leave the house to meet with friends. I proceeded to first lock her bedroom and then mine.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “You’ve got a guard. Can’t you just lock the front door and call it a day?”

Oh, this innocent madam. I proceeded to berate her for her naiveté.

“Most robberies occur because you have a guard” I explained patiently. “You can’t ever EVER trust your guards”.

“Okay,” she sounded doubtful. “But why do you lock the balcony door and then take out the key? What’s the point?”

“If someone-your guard for example-” I told her. “If your guard jumps onto your balcony and wants to break into your house, and you’ve left the key on the other side, all he has to do is smash the glass, put his hand in and turn. Et Voilà! He’s in your house and you gave him the key.”

Satisfied that I had explained house safety rules 101 to her, I shut the front door and proceeded to walk down the stairs.

“Erm…Lindsey?” She called out. I looked behind.

“You haven’t locked the front door.”

No one’s perfect.