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MY BLOG: Every day for a year.
Day 147 ‘Things that go bump in the night.’
I’m on edge, just a little bit. That’s reasonable assessment, I believe.
Waking abruptly from a dream that frankly, I was happy to be stirred from, I appeared to go from one dire situation to another. Sitting bolt upright in bed, I peered into the blackness trying to get a fix on what I heard. What sounded like cracking plaster with a dull thud, had stopped as hurriedly as it started. The house was eerily still, making plenty of room for the low rumbling and growling of my two dogs. Shushing them with a sense of urgency, I held my breath, straining my ears for the slightest un-characteristic movement. And there it was, the unmistakable sound of something metallic dropping to what seemed like the corridor floorboards.
There was someone in the house that wasn’t supposed to be, I was sure of it. Stealth and discretion seemed to my disadvantage at this point, so bellowing at the top of my lungs in both an effort to wake Chris, who sleeps like a corpse, and hopefully, frighten the intruder off I shouted, “there is someone in the house.” Hastily assembling myself in back to front, inside out pajamas, I reached for the nearest weapon I could find. My sock! I was going to garrote the intruder to death with my pink and white rabbit bed socks it seemed. House lights fully ablaze, we marched from room to room, in search of the perceived villain. Well, I marched, Chris more zombie walked in a three am dazed stupor. Nothing! Not a trace of another soul, not a single thing out of place. Retreating to bed, I resisted the temptation to pull the doona over my head and hide. I remained awake, staring at the ceiling for the next three hours. Upon hitting the shower, my culprit’s identity became known to me. The suction cups holding shampoo bottles to the wall had given way. Fragments of plastic together with blobs of hair goo mocked me with evil grins as they journeyed to the plug hole. If you’ve ever questioned the motives of inanimate objects, a stray cupboard door, the corner of the couch, a chair leg, and looked at it twice with, ” you did that on purpose,” then you’ll have some empathy with me finding delight in pitching the offenders to the garbage bin. Time for a little rest, methinks! A good book or some, “Killing Eve.” That’ll help soothe a troubled mind I’m sure. 🙂
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