You know those moments when you think to yourself, “I know what I would do!”
Like in those movies where there’s a threat against the main character, and – at least I do this – we think, “Oh I would totally do X, Y or Z!” OR when there’s someone in the house and the main character is walking around and I yell, “GET OUT OF THE HOUSE! FOR PETE’S SAKE, USE SOME SENSE!”
One time, a friend was telling me circumstances about her life, and I said, “I know what I would do!”
She glared at me and said, “You absolutely do NOT know what you would do, you know what you IMAGINE you would do.”
Last night, I knew EXACTLY what she meant.
Let Me Set the Scene
I had gotten home from a very active Memorial Day Weekend in San Francisco. I’m talking tons of walking and sight-seeing, loads of delicious food, biking and driving and short plane rides –
In short, I was exhausted.
From the airport, my travel companions and I all went our separate ways. I arrived home to my two dogs, my house companions gone for the evening.
A rare and lovely evening alone.
Well, lovely for a while, at least.
The First Funny & Mysterious Noises
I threw my carry-on suitcase in my bedroom, changed into my pajamas, grabbed a simple dinner, and sat down in front of the TV.
FLOP BANG BANG
What the heck was that? I thought.
And then I promptly ignored it, turning up the volume on the TV.
FLOP BANG BANG
I muted the TV.
The noise stopped.
This cycle went on for about 20 minutes.
FLOP BANG BANG
Well, now I HAD to investigate. I paused the TV show and walked around the house, going downstairs to the basement, as well as outside the house. I could not locate the sound.
Until I went back INSIDE THE HOUSE.
SOMETHING WAS IN THE BATHROOM
I don’t DO critters. Not alive. Not dead. Not in my yard. NOT IN MY HOUSE.
Here’s where you might be thinking, “haha just OPEN the DOOR!”
Y’ALL! I COULD NOT DO IT. THERE WAS TOO MUCH FLOPPING AND SQUEAKING!
SQUEAKING!
Instead, I was texting my husband, who was GETTING ON A FIVE-HOUR FLIGHT AND COULD NOT HELP ME.
Plus, he was like, “It’s probably that critter that’s living under the tub,” and I was like, “CRAP WHY DID I NOT MAKE A BIGGER DEAL OUT OF THAT BEFORE NOW, SINCE IT APPEARS THAT THE THING HAS FOUND A WAY *INSIDE* AND I’M TOO AFRAID TO USE THE TOILET and/or OPEN THE SHOWER CURTAIN???”
How Long Did It Take to Open the Shower Curtain???
The better question is, how long did it take for my bladder to fill up enough to have to use the toilet?
Until then, I just kept watching my show, girding my loins to be able to open the door to the bathroom MUCH LESS THE SHOWER CURTAIN.
Easily an hour.
In the meantime, instead of Yes and No votes, I got a lot of feedback like, “BURN IT DOWN. BURN THE HOUSE DOWN.”
I could not disagree.
How Did The Drama End?
Finally I just had to do it.
I had to OPEN THE SHOWER CURTAIN.
Instead of a bang…it ended with a whimper.
Which – in light of the circumstances – is GREAT.
HOWEVER, I STILL HAVE A CRITTER – AND APPARENTLY A GIANT ONE, BASED ON THE NOISES – LIVING *UNDER MY BATHTUB*!!!
So I guess burning it down is still on the table.
This post had little to do with trauma or grief, BUT if you’re interested ~
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