Two nights ago, thunderstorms kept me up from 3am until 5. We had left our windows open for a nice late-summer breeze, which proved to be a bad choice when I woke up to thunder and lightening in a panic. I ran around the house half-asleep, wrestling up the strength to yank the windows closed in the guest room, the laundry room, our bedroom, the office, the kitchen, and the dining room. I raced back to bed with my heart thumping. Lying wide awake and staring at the lightening, I jumped with the thunder claps. I've become inexplicably nervous- okay, I'll say it, scared- during storms of late. So, unable to sleep, I resigned to being productive in my wakefulness. I got up and did some work while watching Stand By Me.
I lurched around in grogginess the next day. But despite my desperate need for a decent bedtime that night, I traded it in for an evening at the movies by myself. I'm on-call this weekend. I started Friday morning and will be on-call until Tuesday morning, so I was determined to spend Thursday doing something that did not require responsibility. Michael was responsible for bottling beer that he concocted at a brewery two weeks prior, so I called upon the reliable and grace-filled presence of Valerie, Michael's sister, to watch Oliver. She brought Dakota, her sweet and storm-fearing malamut-huskie, with her.
Ollie and I arrived home to find Valerie and Dakota waiting for us. The four of us stood nervously in the garage, another huge storm brewing just outside. I turned the key, but the door wouldn't open. Confused, I tried again. I was tired, and couldn't figure out why the key turned without the door opening. And then I realized our repeated mistake: the windows were once again left open. Valerie and I heaved the door open against the wind tunnel that was created between the doors, and we slipped inside.
But instead of comforting shelter, we walked into chaos. Surprised by the dog's entrance, our cat became wild-eyed in horror. She hissed and growled, tail puffed out. Oliver clung to Valerie like a tarsir monkey, eyes locked on Dakota with trepidation lest she lick his feet. He didn't need to worry, though, for Dakota was hunkered beneath the baby swing, fearful of the storm.
And that, more or less, is how I left Auntie Val. She held and comforted Oliver while coaxing the dog out from under the swing. Liesel stood a few feet away, growling. I made a break for my car and drove to my movie. After all, missing out on time all to myself is a very, very scary thought.
No comments:
Post a Comment