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Thursday, 19 March 2015

Who You Gonna Call?

Sometimes when Dave is away, the house gets to me.

I can hear noises within the apartment that I can't identify, or match up to anything that is moving, could move or has moved in the last few seconds.  I tear around looking at doors, baskets, chairs, plants, pots and bookcases; I go over and yank back the curtains as though I were going to discover someone there for nefarious purposes. Today is one of those times.

It started when I woke up around 3:30 a.m, and thought someone banged on the door and yelled "Are you gay?"  I checked the little spy-window and there was no one there, but I was awake, so I got started on the day.  Lights that have always heretofore stayed on when I turned them on, turned themselves off, there was apparently a cow mooing in the upstairs apartment, the water wouldn't turn off after I filled the kettle for my coffee and the fridge was shivering, but with a bass undertone.

That was just the first four minutes, and it's been weird like that all day since.  Clack, zip, swoosh, hummm.

Tonight, the living room seemed warm, silent and ordinary, so I stood at the window, enjoying the view.  I was startled  while gazing at the War Museum across the street, where I could see someone or some thing, glowing and climbing up the wall of the museum that looks like the prow of a ship, with sparks running down to the ground every 10 or 20 seconds. 

I tried to imagine myself calmly telling a person at the number you call if you want to talk to the fire folk when there's no emergency, (just in case they weren't aware of the museum-climbing character), but just couldn't put words to it, so I shut the curtains and continue to hope for the best.

Feeling tired but somehow not wanting to go to bed.  And yes, there are still sparks.

Note to Dave:  I need a noise-repelling headset.  And maybe a jaunty scarf to tie over my eyes.


  1. The wind gets to me at night. I always feel like the house is about to blow down and it always doesn't but it never stops me from believing it.

  2. I'm alone here half the time. I'm used to all the weird things your mind will tell you. It's half the excitement of being alone. Ha!

  3. When I get home my "white noise" snoring - or is it "black noise" - will push all of that to the background. In the meantime, I think I have a 2nd pair of earbags in my hat and glove basket. Just put a broom against the door so no one can come in and take a picture while you sleep. Your other fraction.

  4. Some of the things you describe remind me of my magic-mushroom trips! Which I haven't take for more than three decades and never will again.

  5. Just letting you know that I have caught up on your posts. I have nothing to say but that. :)

  6. I thought I'd feel that way without my dog, but actually it's the absence of sound that's getting me.