A Gift and A Curse

I meant what I said about having a one-track mind. Not an interesting blog does it make.

This morning, however, I had other things on my mind, like mental health. I don’t understand is how a simple little storm in the dark of night can turn what I consider a very rational person into a quivering neurotic?

Woken at 5 am with the crack of thunder, I did the serial-killer-in-the-thunderstorm dance again.

All the lights go on in the house. I make sure all the cats are in the house and not on the balconies. I walk the entire loft making sure its safe and not harboring said serial killer. Then I pace for a while. Eventually I go back to bed where Sparky sleeps soundly. I toss and turn, eyes wide open. I watch the flashes of light in the windows waiting for any suspicious movement or shadow.

I have no idea what is wrong with Sparky. Nothing wakes him. Nothing. Well, I should say he wakes briefly, tells me to go back to sleep and then he’s off again to Sleepyland. If only.

I wanted to call my brother. Timing was good, its distracting and he has a job interview tomorrow, but talking on the phone is not a good idea in a thunderstorm.

My usual security team are freaking useless without Cleo. Kiska will stay in the same room, but god forbid you touch her. She really just likes to be admired from afar. However, she is midnight black and moves in the shadows in such a way that if you didn’t know it was her, one might think it was the Woogyman. And that damn redheaded cat. He comes in for a snuggle and bolts the moment something scary happens, like when a lightening strike in a nearby tree shakes the house. And it’s not just a run for cover. It’s a claws-to-the-chest leap into the semi-darkness as if the devil were on his tail, which at that point I totally believe. And believe me when I say I really do not need to add to my list of scary supernatural evil in the middle of a thunderstorm.

I was not made for thunderstorms. Seriously. I like my storms rageful and dramatic as the next person. The pissant milquetoast drizzle we seem to get throughout the year is just annoying. Give me some wind and a good hard rain any day. However, when the pissant drizzle is accompanied by lightening that always strikes in the forest around my house and not, say five miles off the coast, making the sky very pretty far away, I get a little sketchy.

So that being said, the storm has now passed and the sun is up and the rain vapor has almost vanished. My vigil is over and I think I’ll go back to bed.

You know, on the other hand, without my vigilance, this place would be a haven for all those serial killers/evil ghosts stuck in a storm. Good thing Sparky has me.