Thursday, June 15, 2017

Something Eerie This Way Talks

Not sure if this event is something to blog worry about or not...

Last evening, I finished my driveway walk about 8:45. I always take three slow laps around the carport to ease my leg muscles down from that supersonic speed I reached during the walk. These final three loops are on the concrete slab behind the garage. We have always called it the carport, even though now Farmer H has built an attached roof area onto the side of the garage, where he parks the TrailBlazer and his Olds Toronado, which we also call the carport.

The dogs know that when I stay on the concrete carport, I'm done. They get all frisky again, anticipating their evening snack. The last couple of nights, though, Jack goes off with Copper to chase rabbits, and Juno comes to see me off, then goes back to her house. I guess they don't like the walk being so late these days. But they sure don't mind the snack. They come running once I get it from the kitchen and go out on the front porch to bellow for them. Actually, Jack is usually back, having some kind of built-in freaky food radar.

I always check the time on my phone before I start the walk, then lay it on the dumpster, unless it's trash day, in which case I lay it on the trunk of the Toronado, hoping that Jack doesn't hop up there and take a poop (as if) like Farmer H accused him a while back. When I'm done, I pick up my phone, carry it around one lap, then check the time again on the second lap around the concrete carport. It always takes me between 21 and 22 minutes to complete six lengths of the driveway. But I still check. Just in case maybe I forgot one. Then I push the side button on my phone that turns off the screen, and put that phone in my shirt pocket. I walk the third loop on the concrete, and start back to the porch.

Last evening, no dogs in sight, I walked down the ugly paint-needing would-be-white dilapidated picket fence to get to the brick sidewalk. When I walked earlier during the cooler months, I just cut under the roofed carport. But now Farmer H is home at this time, and I don't want to squeeze between the cars. I walk on that brick sidewalk, across the front of the carport where the cars are parked, to the side porch steps to stretch.

Last evening, as I rounded the corner of the carport right by the post, a voice said, "I'm sorry. If you said something, I didn't hear you."

W. T. F. ! ! !

I looked down, and my phone was lit up in my pocket. Don't go thinking my left boob grew fingers and poked an app! That was freaky! It really startled me.

When I got inside, after snacking the dogs, I told Farmer H about that phone voice.

"Oh. Mine did that last night. Right there in front of the carport, on the sidewalk."

Not sure what's going on there. I'm pretty sure it's just a coincidental phone malfunction on two different phones at two different times IN THE EXACT SAME PLACE!

I don't really think this incident is other-wordly like some of the things that happen around the Mansion. However...the Toronado belonged to Farmer H's boss's dead dad, and the TrailBlazer belonged to my dear departed mom, and that end of the house is the outside wall of the bedrooms of the #1 Son and The Pony, and the bathroom between them. Where I hear footsteps up above me while I sit in my OPC (Old People Chair).

Doo doo doo doo. Doo doo doo doo..


Sioux Roslawski said...

Something eerie... something wicked.

Hillbilly Mom said...

I hope not TOO wicked...

That same night, something really heavy thudded over my head in the boys' bathroom while I was in the baement in my OPC (Old People Chair). Nobody was there, of course. Nothing there to fall, either.