Sometimes I can be very easily creeped out by things. Especially when the house is dark and I am home alone, it can be hard to repress the lurking suspicion that a dead body or a skeleton may fall out of a closet onto me when I open the door, or that a cold hand may reach out and grab my ankle when I walk past a bed or dresser. I was explaining all this to Michael last night, and he, kind man, wanted to be sure I had as little cause for alarm as possible. He even offered to go through the house with me right then and there, opening doors and proving there were no corpses behind them, but I hardly felt that necessary. After all, the creepy things wouldn't be foolish enough to be caught lurking about when he was there.
This morning I was changing Jane's diaper when I heard a loud shuffling sound approaching. I peered down the hallway and saw Michael, who should have been asleep in bed.
Michael: Just letting you know I'm coming so you won't be alarmed.
Me: Yes, but that's also the sound mummies make.
Michael: Silly! Everyone knows that mummies can't be seen by day. In the daylight they turn into sand.
I did not know this, as it happens, but it's a great relief to hear. I feel a whole lot safer now.
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2 comments:
That still leaves the mummies in the dark problem, though.
Now it's silence that makes me more nervous. It usually means D1 is reading my favorite books or analyzing the stereo system.
Excellent point, but as mummies in the dark are no more scary than all the other creepies out there, I suppose I can bear up under the strain.
I love your use of the word analysis in that context. Why didn't I ever think of that one growing up? 'Not to worry, Mother, I'm just analysing the freshly-baked chocolate-chip cookies.'
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