The day before yesterday, I killed a scorpion. By myself. With my jandal (flip flop) that was still on my foot. And I didn’t even scream! The Evil Overlord of Pain and Death was attempting to sneak up on us in the spa and attack us while we were relaxing and vulnerable. I discovered its plan after we got out and I was replacing the cover. It was all, “Oh damn! I almost had you! So close! Where are my minions?” And I was all, “Tell it to the bottom of my foot, asshole.”
This might sound like a small thing, but it turns out I’m ever so slightly phobic about the evil beasties. This was a huge thing for me.
It got me to thinking, though. Our son was stung once, Steve was stung twice, and I was stung thrice (oh yeah, rockin’ the thrice!) and all at 3am-ish in bed. Since moving in, I can count on one hand how many nights I have NOT been awake at 3-something in the morning. It’s kind of weird.
And ‘tis the season for freaky stuff, so I started thinking that in The Amityville Horror, George woke up every night at 3:15am because that’s when the murders happened! We’ve also had a lot of flies on the back porch. Coincidence?
Anyway, not long after we moved in, one of our neighbors came over and talked to Steve. “See that tree over there?” he said at one point of the conversation, pointing to one of the mesquites on our property, “That’s where the previous owner is buried with his dog.” Ummm….what? “Yeah, he wanted to stay on his farm, so after she buried him she moved away,” referring to the wife.
A few weeks later, another neighbor came by and we happened to mention this little tidbit of information, and she said, “Nah, he ain’t buried there! She took him with her.” No mention about the dog.
So, now I’m left wondering if he died at 3-something in the morning and wanted to stay on the property, but she took his remains with her when he moved so now he’s a restless spirit?
Last night, like clockwork (literally), I was awake at 3-something in the morning. Got up, used the restroom, got back in bed, like usual. Normally I fall right back to sleep and all is good, but last night, despite being ridiculously tired, I just couldn’t seem to get back to sleep. Four a.m. came and I was still lying there wondering why I couldn’t get back to sleep.
And then the scream began.
Down the hallway, the most chilling scream started. I threw off the covers, about to run down the hall thinking it was my son. But then I realized what it was…
That damned water heater is going to be the death of me! Stupid thing is so burned out; we just hope it lasts a little bit longer until we can afford an on demand system.
If we do have a restless spirit in the house, at least he seems pretty mellow. Not like the last house we were at. That one has something very dark living there. Luckily, it seems to have stayed put.