I have been an utter fool. This clever inventor somehow knew I never wear shorts and sleep fully pantsed.
If my home is invaded, I shall simply say "STOP" to the intruder in a commanding tone. This will bring him to pause as I unlock my tri-layer biometric safe with 8-digit physical combination. Then, after retrieving my firearm (equipped with a sensible 10-round magazine - I'm not JOHN RAMBO, here!) I shall venture to my adjoining study, whereupon I shall pull from the top shelf the second tri-layer biometric safe where I store my ammo (you didn't think I'd be so beastly careless as to leave my ammunition WITH my firearm, did you?). After loading my Full Metal Jacket rounds (Officer LockedBreech, SWAT Commando? No, thank you, LockedBreech, Esquire!) into my reasonable-capacity magazine, I shall, using all the muscle in my dainty, educated hands, retract the slide of the firearm, loading it and preparing myself for battle with the misunderstood youth who has been disenfranchised by an uncaring society. I will, of course, only THEN scan my fingerprint, activating my Tool of Death for its regrettable purpose.
Presently, I shall aim the firearm near the intruder (not AT him, I fear my trembling finger might trigger this Weapon of War inadvertently). I shall provide the intruder with no fewer than ten verbal warnings to exit my domicile. If he refuses and advances at me with a deadly weapon AND I am unable to retreat AND he strikes at me at least one time, I shall regrettably fire one round into his body, at which point I will stop, assess his injuries, and begin rendering first aid.
Ah. The Second Amendment. As those wise men intended it, so long ago.