Dear Thing Living Under My House,
I know you’re there. I hear you outside of my house. At all hours of the day. And night. I work from home. And sometimes, when I’m alone and it’s very quiet, I can hear you. Scratching … clawing … dragging against the flimsy, manmade, laughable barrier between us. It is most unnerving. I don’t even know what you are.
Or who you are.
I know you’ve figured out that I am aware of your presence. Because you seem to vanish into thin air when I summon the courage to rush outside to catch a glimpse of you. But you’re very fast. And eerily stealthy. And I know that you’re watching me.
I know that every time I cower on my hands and knees, desperately clutching a flashlight and searching for answers, that you are staring directly into my eyes. Into my very soul. And there, cloaked in the shadows not moving or even breathing, you remain hidden just waiting for me to surrender and retreat into the house so that you may continue with your diabolical plan to drive me to madness.
For the record, I am not the only one who knows you’re here. It’s painfully obvious that the cat has known about you for weeks. Stupidly, I dismissed him and assumed we were dealing with the usual benign suspects. He tried to caution me time and again, stopping to howl at the window, at the exterior wall or (because my home is raised three feet off the ground for your convenience) at various points in the floor. He hears you.
But your main concern should not be my sharp-toothed, albeit somewhat sluggish, fifty-percent-declawed feline warrior. Rather it should be my husband. He doesn’t tire easily. And your mind games only awaken the inner obsession and insatiable thirst for justice that make up the very fiber of his identity. He will stop at nothing until he’s taken you. Dead or alive. It matters not.
See you in Hell,
The woman who lives directly above your lair
1. Sleeping late.
No, that’s not me. Please. I know better than to sleep with a smoky eye.
2. Summer drinks.
Especially when they have cucumber in them. I like to pretend I’m being healthy.
From Blended and The Nut Job to National Treasure and Walter Mitty, I honestly think I set a personal best for numbers of movies seen inside of ten weeks this year. (That’s a whole lot of sedentary. I’m going to make a kick-ass old lady.)
4. Summer feet.
No, these aren’t my … you know what? Screw it. These ARE my feet. I am a professional foot model. And this is a small sampling of my portfolio.
5. All Shook Up
Elvis music set against a Shakespearian plot line housed in a Methodist church. It’s a wild formula that made for a great couple of months with my girl.
6. Family vacations.
Sure, there are always a few moments when we want to kill each other. But the memories we make and the food we eat always outweigh the death threats.
Created in response to MamaKat’s weekly writing prompt.
All this talk of Elvis and the recent pilgrimage to Graceland got me to thinking, I’ve never had a fried peanut butter and banana sandwich. You know what I mean, right? The sandwich Elvis was supposedly eating when he died whilst sitting on his (ahem) throne. Some storytellers even go as far as to throw bacon on that infamous sandwich.
Of course, by now we all know it’s just an urban legend. Because not only did Elvis NOT die eating on the toilet, I’m still not even sure he’s actually dead. And, for that reason, I decided to try my hand at a little Hunk-Hunka Heart Disease Special … just in case he ever swings by for a meal.
What? It could happen.
Viv and I made these together the night we came home from Memphis. We couldn’t wait. I should point out that this recipe yields only three sandwiches. Yet it calls for ONE ENTIRE STICK of butter. I should also point out that I chickened out and used only a pat for each sandwich. I’ve become accustomed to my veins running loose and free and I like them that way. And the sandwich (cooked in a pan a la grilled cheese) was still plenty indulgent.
Check it out. (Caution: I am not a food photographer.)
The post was written in response to MamaKat’s writing prompt asking for a recipe I love. This one was pretty dang easy. Hope you enjoy it as much as we did.
Thank you very much.
Yep. That probably makes me pretty dull. But I love it. And I very seldom get enough of it. Especially with a pink bunny.
2. Getting a massage
No, that’s not me. I’m the jackass at the keyboard writing about getting massaged, remember?
3. Eating cheese
You guys had to see this one coming, right? This chick is exhibiting one of my favorite pastimes. Except she’s a disgrace to the cheese-loving profession. Jarlsberg?!!? Woman, please.
4. Watching a movie
I love movies. I could watch them all day. And yet, compared to the average person, I’ve seen so very few. How is that fair? P.S. If anyone reading at this moment wants to see a movie, text me. Now. (Bet you think I’m kidding.)
5. Singing on Broadway
What? The prompt asks for Nine Things I’d RATHER Be Doing. Right now, I’m wearing an old Johnny Depp T-shirt sitting on my bed typing a goofy blog post with Disney’s Jesse on in the background. You know what I’d rather be doing? I’d rather be singing on Broadway. With the right song, I’ll bet I could … oh, never mind.
6. Being the one holding the pen at a book signing
Well, as long as I’m singing on freakin’ Broadway …
7. Traveling internationally with my family
With your family, Michele? I know. That’s what *I* thought as soon as I typed it. But yes. I want to see as much of the world as I can. And I want them with me when I see it. Honestly, sometimes I wish I was more of a gypsy.
8. Time traveling
Well, crap. Since my suitcases are packed, right? Let’s see. I think my first points of interest would be … my children’s babyhoods (I’m bringing a better camera this time), my teen years (for a little damage control … and some classic MTV) and maybe the 1960s. I want to be on Ed Sullivan. (What? Did you expect 1776? It’s like you guys don’t even know me.)
9. Hugging my kids
This is the one thing on my list that I could actually go do right now. Come to think of it, if I chew while hugging with a DVD on in the background, I could probably knock out THREE simultaneously.
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This post was written in response to MamaKat’s writing prompt asking for Nine Things I’d Rather Be Doing Right Now.