Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Imagination On Overload

I'm sitting on the bed, reading over my notes for a possible future story when I hear what sounds like scratching coming from the closet in my room. Sounds like something is in there, crawling. My imagination is on overload. I grab a broom and get ready to defend myself.

I gingerly open the closet door, not sure what might come flying at me, and the only thing I see are two bubble pack mailers on the closet floor. They must have tumbled down from the shelf and that had to be the scurrying sound I heard. At least that is what I tell myself. So I go back to my writing, feeling more than a little foolish…when the sound happens again.

How many bubble pack mailers do I have in there anyway? Sheesh. I ignore it. Blissful quiet for about thirty minutes. Then I get up to fix a pot of tea and when I get back the closet door is partially open.  Okay, now I know I didn’t get up that second time I heard the noise. And I know I closed the closet the first time after I picked up the bubble pack mailers…so that would mean something came out of the closet and is hiding in the room. With me. Now. Shit.

I go find dh and tell him and he is like, “Why is it my job to find this thing you have in your room?”

“Because your are my official bug and critter catcher and removal expert.”

He gives me one of his typical looks, a cross between consternation and constipation. “Expert, huh? When did that become official?”

“When I became the ball and chain around your ankle, silly! Now go forth and slay whatever the hell came outta my closet!” In all fairness, I do hand him my broom. I would never send my champion out to battle without a weapon.

After an hour’s search we cannot find a thing.

“You must be imagining it.” He hands my broom back and heads to his home office.

I decide to do, of all things, housework instead of writing. Strange, invisible, scurrying critters have a habit of forcing me to change priorities.

It is as I am doing the dishes I hear my hubby go out to his car and then come running back in.
“Come here! You have to see this!”

chipmunk-in-downspoutI dry off my hands and follow him. He points to the downspout outside the house and makes scratching noises, and pantomimes what happened. Apparently, a small chipmunk decided to climb inside our downspout. When hubby walked past and bumped it by accident, the critter went a little crazy and tried to scramble up the metal.

Hubby banged on the downspout and when the little guy couldn’t climb any higher without sliding back down, he must have decided to make a break for it, so he scurried backwards, down the spout and took off flying across our front yard.

He thinks the noise I heard was not coming from the closet, but from the chipmunk outside, climbing inside the downspout. Puzzle solved. DH looks very proud, chest puffed out, dragon slain…well, figuratively since no chipmunk was harmed in the telling or doing of this story.

Of course, that doesn’t explain the partially opened closet…
::looks around nervously::  :P

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