The ghosts are returning.
More specifically, the imaginary intruders are returning. Did you ever do this? In my night-time childhood paranoia, I would lie awake constructing elaborate scenarios to match the odd creaks and pops that propagate through a middle-aged house as it adjusts to sinking ground (ah, western New York) and heavy wind. Thieves, but not just lumbering men in masks with crowbars and burlap sacks. Thieves in my mind always turned out to be Shadow Ninjas: smart, stealthy, agile. When I was terrified enough for forced bravery, I would check the closet ceilings to make sure no ninja-thieves were there suspended. In, out, undetected.
Anyway, I am at home for winter break, and it is windy in Buffalo. 75-mph-gusts-windy. Our houses were not built for this kind of stress, and the duration and intensity of floorboard-creaking gives the impression that other people are walking around in our house while we sit together, with shared expressions of alarm, in the kitchen. A thorough room-by-room check reveals no intruders, or at least no physical manifestations of intrusion. Ghosts I still worry about.
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Lastly, my brother bought a cake today that was, believe it or not, too chocolatey. My brother and I both agreed on this. I couldn't decide if the baker deserved congratulations or censure for the achievement. Censure, I think, for intemperate use of chocolate. Wait, does that even make sense? No. How could I write such a thing. More chocolate is always better. Odds are he or she just used massive amounts of chocolate poorly. Improper use of chocolate. Personal foul. Half the distance to the goal line.
And with that, I remember that I have not yet eaten lunch, and should probably do that before I eat dinner.
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2 comments:
there's an argument out there that in western society ghosts are usually either good or bad, or have some purpose and in eastern society they just kinda end up as ghosts and exist.
there's some kooky japanese ghosts out there -- you should check them out! some fun folklore.
and i used to be terrified a mummy was going to come out of my closet and smother me. but I like mummies!
oh andrea, so conflicted!
you know, when I was 8 or so, Rocky and Bullwinkle struck an unholy fear of Soviet-spies-under-the-bed into my heart. In retrospect, that was one of my more comical fears.
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