Graveyard shift

Oh the travails of moving into an old new house. Old - as in built in the early 80's, and new - as in newly repainted, all white and sparkling. Like those rich matrons who've been around a very long time, but still have young taut faces. One huge gust of wind that came in through the open front door...and bam! the glass door leading to my mini garden flew off! Yes, folks, the offending door is now leaning peacefully against the concrete wall that separates my garden from Goldilocks bakeshop. Miraculously the glass is intact, but I now have a gaping hole in my old new house where this flying door used to be. This happened a few hours ago, at 7 in the evening. And as the workers can only come in tomorrow morning, we have decided to go on shifts guarding this house from cats and bats and snakes and rodents. Not to mention of course the akyat bahay's, magnanakaws, ex-convicts and rapists. Luis was in charge till midnight, then me till 3am (that's NOW), and Grace the maid from 3am to 6am. It is now only 1:40 in the morning and nobody's online in facebook, no overseas friends or relatives online in skype or yahoo to keep me company. I would take a picture of the hole left by the fallen door, but am too scared to, since it's very dark and spooky in the garden and that part of the house and who knows what may happen if I do. (Watch the movie "Shutter", you'll know what I mean.)