okay. so who the hell has been raking outside my door for the past half an hour? I'm kinda scared to look. It's ten thirty at night. Reminds me of the ghost story that went on for ever and EVER when we were little in which Devinderviper would call on the phone and say slowly, menacingly, "I am Devin Derviper.. Scary pause. I am half a mile away", ""I am DevinderVI-per. - silence - breathing - I am at the end of your block." Two houses away. At the house next door. I can s e e you. Breathing. Then, at our peak of little girl terror, -- a pounding at the door and we'd clutch one another and scream and screw up our courage and bravely jerk open the door to face our murderer and some little boy would be there saying in a dumb/scary German accent: I am der Vinder Viper and I've come to vipe der vinders.
anyway. who the hell is raking? raking closer? raking my steps? raking my porch?
I can't think of a super-dumb possibility so I'll just stay inside and get freaked out.
A day of minor freaking out, but nothing happening. Running on the railroad trestle. Three people telling me - two on the way in, one on the way out.: oh no no don't go/ you shouldn't have gone back there, oh. There are homeless people back there. oh. You'll get hit by a train. (train did come by. very cool. loud and bitchin' and industrial - not too close. un peu. just fun). Anyway. as soon as I was back in 'civilized' 'safe-ville' with people with homes and pets, some 8" 'dog" went after my ankles like my socks were cats sleeping on its dog dish. ~~Jesus! Little Savage!!
Later - post Chiropractor head snapping (he: don't move your head unnecessarily for a few hours) the SUV right next to me squealed on its brakes, skidding and squealing and Christ it was close, but I looked straight ahead, not wanting to see whatever was clearly going to take me out or, if I survived, make my neck worse.
okay. nutthin'
other cute things today: the darling little boy (8ish) with mad-crazy curly brown wiggly-all-over hair alone in the chiropractor's office, his mom next door. I wasn't supposed to move and other patients were resting next door, so I whispered, "You have great hair" without looking at him. Silence. Tick. Tick. . . . little whisper: "I like your dress."
Just cute.
An otherwise forgettable day. The raking has stopped. If someone knocks on the door, I'll scream!
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