As I sit here thinking of how to approach my latest daily masterpiece...it is 12:12 a.m. On the cusp of the morrow. That gray area between Tuesday night and Wednesday morning. It's not yet the witching hour, but something is afoot in my dark basement lair. The Truth in Blogging Law requires me to inform you that I have my office light on. Just because.
Something is behind me. I have no idea what it is, but it makes a slight rustling sound. It's highly possible that there is a silent cricket creeping about. I hate crickets. I've seen one the last two days, but it evades me. I have no qualms about crushing its exoskeleton. None whatsoever. If only I have the opportunity. Yes, it COULD be a cricket, tiptoeing with its six hairy legs through the quagmire of cardboard boxes and errant Devil's Playground bags that were used to cart home the tools of my once-career.
Or it could be the big black tall kitchen trash bag that I've got laying on a box beside my new rolly chair. I put empty Diet Coke bottles in there every night. I don't have a wastebasket to give it shape. So it could be slowly settling as gravity beckons.
It could even be a ceiling tile ready to collapse. Every now and then, we have a leak from the pipes in the big triangle tub above in the master bathroom. It's not the drip of water. I've heard that before. And I'm pretty sure you can't hear mold growing.
The only time I've heard something similar was when we had a millipede stomping its thousand feet across the floor through a Devil's Playground bag landscape. I had The Pony, then, to call for help. The Pony laying on his basement couch, playing games on his laptop, keeping me company separately. Now I'm alone. Farmer H would not come down from his slumber to investigate, even if I told him I thought there was an escaped convict hiding in the boxes piled in my office. "He'll find a way out," I'm sure Farmer H would tell me, all muffledy from behind the mask of his breather, "And if he doesn't, we have an umbrella policy in case he sues us."
Seriously. I don't know what this is. Every time I stop typing and turn around, it stops. Almost as if it is a thinking being...
I think now might be a good time to wrap things up and go sit in my OPC (Old People Chair).
5 comments:
It's good luck to have a cricket in the house, if you kill this one you may never find another penny, or win another scratcher. And they're quiet, you don't hear them. Cockroaches and mice are noisy, but it's probably the bag of diet coke leavin's settling.
Are you sure it's not one of your ghosts?
River,
Good luck! Maybe that explains my recent casino success. I saw that cricket again last night, just walking around. It doesn't make the cricket noises I was hearing a couple weeks ago.
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Sioux,
I didn't get the ghost vibe. I just don't like thinking there's an unknown critter creeping around. Every now and then we get a big-eared tiny field mouse that makes its way in. Usually when the weather turns cold. Haven't seen one in a couple years, and the weather isn't getting very cold right now. The millipedes are the creepiest.
We had millipedes in Hawaii--yeccck!! Also field mice after they burned a cane field. And roaches. Lots of roaches. I guess critters thought it was paradise, too!!
fishducky,
Well, it's not like they can relocate. I've never seen life jackets that small...
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