A vivid imagination is a good thing if you’re J.K. Rowling or Walt Disney. For me, it can be a bit of a problem.
The wind rattling the window at night is for most, the wind rattling the window. For me, it’s a frothy mob of rabid raccoons working themselves into a lather struggling to make their way into our house to attack me in my bed.
A plane flying low over head signals an aircraft coming in for a landing. I hear that thunderous hum and duck for cover, certain that it will crash land in a ball of fire in our backyard at any moment.
The average recreational walker does not scream like a sissy when being overtaken by a jogger. How could I be sure I wasn’t being chased by a mugger? His Nikes were pounding the pavement hard and accelerating rapidly so I don’t think my assumption was unfounded. Okay, maybe trying to swat him with my shopping bag was a bit much, but still.
Do you see what I’m dealing with here?
And scary movies? I stupidly watched Paranormal Activity I, II and III and haven’t slept soundly since. I’m still getting over the whole “The Ring” trauma. My friend phoning me as I arrived home from the theatre to a dark, empty house to inform me that I had “seven days….” in a frightening whisper, scarred me for life. And, don’t even get me started about my husband’s “Blair Witch standing in a dark corner” impersonation. It nearly gave me an aneurism.
I know I’m not alone. Even “normal” people let their imaginations get best of them sometimes. But do normal people call their husband’s cell phone in tears, convinced something horrible has happened?
I heard on the radio that there was an accident on the highway my husband takes to work. I was kind of mean to him that morning— all bossy and PMSy. Plus, I sent him off in the smaller car when he wanted to take the van. I whined that I needed it.
Plus, EVERY morning I say, “Love you. Drive safely.” But this time, I didn’t. He knows this little ritual puts me at ease. Usually he smiles and says, “Love you too.” But sometimes, when he’s all smart-assy he answers, “Drive safely? Nah. I’m going to close my eyes and speed and swerve wildly all
over the road.” Not amusing.
So in a panic I called his cell phone. It rang and rang and rang….on the fourth ring, I started to cry. Oh god, I killed my husband. I’m a single parent now. How am I going to tell the kids and…
“Hello?”
He answered and I was so relieved. I told him why I had called.
Silence.
And then, “You’re a freak.”
What? Me? I can’t imagine what he means by that.
Oh wait, yes I can…
