Tuesday, January 11, 2011
HOW FAST DO SNAILS ACTUALLY TRAVEL? I MEAN, LIKE, WHEN THEY REALLY REALLY HAVE TO?
I just can not fathom how this happened? Or why it's bothering me so.
And did you know they were LOUD? No? Me neither.
But they are. At two o'clock in the morning. When the TV's stuck on some channel in between the channel you left and the channel you never made it to, and there's no noise in the house at all, and all you can hear is this shhhrrrup, shhhrrrup, shhhrrrup. And it wakes you out of a dead sleep. Well, dead-ish. As much as you can be, on a sofa, with a crick in your neck because of the overpropped pillow beneath your head because, of course, you had no intention of falling asleep there. Again. Loser.
So I'm on my hands and knees crawling around the living room, laying my ear to the floorboards, lifting rugs, sniffing for...God knows what. And that's when I ended up in the plant cemetery.
Well, no, of course it didn't start off that way. There used to be a live orchid, a live herb garden, a couple of live poinsettias, two live chrysanthemum plants (one gold, one burgundy), and one live green-leafed thing with white blooms. But, clearly, they've all died now, although their scraggly brown crisps of skeletons remain. Still potted. It's all very morbid. I'm sure I've mentioned my black thumb before.
Bring on the nightmares, baby!