I know houses make noises. I grew up in a house that was built in 1909 and so, believe me, I know all about house noises. And witches. One walked up the seventeen steps to the second floor where I slept all the time. I scrunched down in bed, pulled the covers completely over me and prayed. I am pretty sure I was meant to be a brilliant person but because of oxygen deprivation during the "witch cometh" years I'm just ordinary.
The noises, I think--now that I'm older and can look at the problem objectively--were not a witch but a cooling heating-system and the seventeen steps, cooling and contracting along with it. Mother was thrifty and didn't keep the heat on until bedtime or I would have been asleep by the time the steps brought the witch closer and closer.
Tonight, in my daughter's bedroom, someone was roaming. Minkey, the annoying cat, was on my lap so I know it wasn't him. Pika, our sweet cat, who unfortunately won't sit on laps, was probably asleep in the huge ceramic pumpkin--that I really should put away before the next holiday--and so it wasn't her. Phil was sitting next to me, reading out loud--I love it when he reads out loud to me and if I didn't have that pesky oxygen deprivation problem my mind wouldn't wander and I wouldn't have to ask him to "read that last paragraph over again." We were all accounted for but the floorboards creaked overhead. I'm thinking that that witch from my childhood has finally tracked me down.
I'm going upstairs with...what? Garlic? No, that's for vampires. Silver bullets? What monster is that for? I've forgotten. Maybe it's just a Lone Ranger thing. (By the way, where did he get silver bullets, anyway? Did he have a secret silver mine somewhere? And since so many of those cowboy movies were shot in southern Utah shouldn't I be taking some excursions to dig up a little of that silver?) Should I take water upstairs with me to throw on the witch? That worked for the witch in The Wizard of Oz and also for those strange aliens in the Mel Gibson movie, Signs. Or should I just sleep down here, on the couch?
No, it's not a witch. There's no such thing as witches. Or aliens. And by the way, if water was so deadly to them how come they came to a planet that has so much water?
See, if I wasn't oxygen deprived I wouldn't ramble so much in this blog. I would have tight, interesting sentences that made sense. I'm pretty sure that besides the oxygen deprivation I have had a spell put upon me by that non-existent, creeping-up-the-stairs witch. I'm sure she hated all English classes in school and tried to distract me from learning properly.
So...it's not my fault then, when I got kicked out of Mr. Hunsaker's class. The witch made me do it--talk in class like I did. Constantly. (She was diligent.) I must email Patsy and Dick (their last names began with "W" too--we went through all of our classes together, usually in the back of the classroom). They got kicked out with me. They will be so happy to know it's not their fault either.
I feel better now. I'm going upstairs with nothing to harm the poor old dear. I finally have someone to blame my non-spelling ability, my rambling sentences and incoherent thoughts on. It's comforting, in a sad ending-sentences-with-a-preposition sort of way but it's all I have and I'm sticking to it. I think I will lock the bedroom door though. There's no sense in being foolish.