This morning, blissfully unaware I am being watched, I stroll back and forward to the bathroom. Times like these I miss my old house and its ensuite. But oh well, we adapt. My bedroom sits atop the lounge room, a mezzanine sort of thing, with about five stairs to take you to the upper bedroom level.

As part of my morning routine, I loiter the top story of my house in underwear with music blaring. My current album of choice, Human by Rag’n’Bone Man, requires a lot of singing along. And we all know that singing is better the louder you can push it out.

Obviously.

Realising my bras were all downstairs in the laundry, damn it, I grabbed my t-shirt dress of the day to head downstairs. Pretty comfortable with the whole naked in my house thing, I started to make my way to the laundry. Topless. Music continuing to blast from my iPhone.

Rounding the corner of the split staircase, I caught sight of a man in high vis and let out a deep, raspy half scream, half what the actual fuck. Shit. Panic rushed through my veins and I thought how ridiculous it is that I’m going to be fighting for my life in my underwear.

Until, a familiar voice questioned soothingly, if I was okay.

Kel was there, home to grab some supplies, apparently. He had called out to me, apparently, and I hadn’t heard him (entirely possible). With my heart pounding in my ears and my dress still clutched to my chest, I made my way downstairs to get dressed. Shit, I mumbled, such bullshit, I need a coffee.

I don’t know about you guys, but a fright like that beats a 30 minute cardio session any old day of the week. I’m pretty sure my heart was beating, my body on high alert, for hours afterwards. Panic apparently burns calories, so I had an extra-large coffee and a croissant for breakfast and called it square.

When was the last time you got a fright? Was it a real or imagined threat?

Chief Blogger at Suger Coat It; An Australian lifestyle blog for women who work for themselves. Melissa is a social media consultant & lover of stripes. Most weekends you’ll find her at the beach or home on the veranda kicking back. Around here, they call her Suger. Feel free to do the same.