watched Paranormal Activity, The Marked Ones with the boys. And did our obligatory deconstruction of all the plot holes and generally mocked the writers like we always do with horror movies. But....the ending was actually badass. And none of us saw it coming. (Well played, director that I never heard of...). So, the movies over...the boys are all settled back into their lairs and busy once again lording over the internet...the dog and the cat are both asleep, Hubbys off refereeing somewhere...and Im all alone in the darkest corners of the laundry room. And, as you all know, the house is freakishly big. So Im out of earshot should I see a ghost and the need arises to summon help with a scream. So I remind myself that a ghost isnt a spider and to calm the bleep down. As every creepy scene from the movie enjoys an instant replay in my overly imaginative head. When all of a sudden...I hear it. That Sound. That Sound that makes all the movie extras who are about to get it say Did you hear that? Followed by the always helpful I bet it was nothing. Just the wind. Just keep walking around in the dark cellar and ignore the ominous organ music. But I hear it again. And its louder. Scratching. Mixed with gnawing and chewing noises. Like something is eating. Messy eating. The kind of eating that only Stephen King and peri menopausal sleep deprived middle aged blondes can conjure up. So I peek around the door jamb like Nancy Drew mixed her DNA with Scooby and Shaggy. And I see something move. Just a bit...but a definite change in position. So I yank myself back into the room and flatten myself against the wall (because that always seems to prolong the dippy movie extras continuity). And I remind myself. Im a grown woman. Theres no such things as ghosts. And spiders dont come in that size. (DO THEY?!!). So I shake my blonde head and turn the lights off and leave the laundry room with an armload of Masons shirts. And trip right over a big black ball of some thing alive that tried to scoot past me. Telling my brain two things simultaneously...1) spiders may, in fact, come in that size, and 2) abandon all hope, ye who just walked into a trap. So I scatter the shirts like a laundry truck just vomited all over the room and flail my way up the stairs screeching for God to save me. Followed by the dog...who woke up after I went downstairs and decided that the hockey ball that was unfortunate enough to be left in the entryway would make a mighty fine snack...provided he can hide somewhere to eat it. And is now fleeing for his life once again. (But not outrunning the old girl. Not your day Dear Pooch. Not this day...). So now I have to explain to Mason why his shirts are flung all over the rec room and hallway and stairs. And how theres no way on earth Im going to go get them. But how to blame the dog...(insert intensely pensive expression here...). Dont judge me. Meds to undo what The Over Forty Hormone Fairy does to me havent been invented yet....
Posted on: Mon, 27 Oct 2014 01:48:36 +0000
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