So while I love nighttime and the dark, lately I’ve been
stricken by this crippling fear. Every
night, as I’m getting ready for bed, I get this anxiety that there’s a murderer
lurking in the darkness. My tactic for
dealing with this has been to jump into my bed and pull the covers over my head
like a 5 year old. Obviously, this will
allow me to evade even the most insidious serial killer. Maybe I need a therapist to help me get to
the root of these issues.
(Insert picture of Brian Peppers here. I was going to literally put one here but I google image searched him and I just can't.)
Last night, my plans were thwarted because after barricading
myself in my room, (read here: closing my bedroom door) I realized that I
forgot to look at my work schedule. I
could have possibly had work the next day, so I couldn’t rest until I
double-checked. This meant that I had to
brave the horrifying downstairs of my house.
I turned on every possible light that I could as I went. I looked around every corner for intruders. Finally, I made it safely up to my room
again. Relieved, I could go to sleep in
peace knowing I didn’t have to get up in the morning for work.
Then, I looked at my bed and realized I had forgotten my
sheets in the dryer. Meaning yet another
perilous journey into the darkness lay ahead of me. I would also have to venture into the
basement. Where obviously that baby
monster from American Horror Story
was living.
You think I would have learned by now that cleaning is not
worth the aggravation. The dusting and
vacuuming I did a week ago have also disturbed the apparent throng of spiders
who have chosen to take up residence in my bedroom. Seriously, the other night, I was sitting in
bed with my laptop, waiting for my genius to spark some inspiration for my new
story, when Aragog fell from the ceiling onto my keyboard. He then proceeded to crawl away somewhere
into the depths of my comforter. I had
to sleep on the couch that night. So now
before I shut out my light for bed, I not only have to check my room for
murderers but for spiders.
One thing I’ve been trying to do to allay my terror is make
a joke out of it inside my own head.
There was this one episode of Full
House when the girls watched a scary movie or something and couldn’t
sleep. To make them feel better, Uncle
Joey acted out a skit where he was the monster’s mother. This made the girls laugh. Their fears seemed ridiculous.
This is a fairly successful strategy. I made up phony headlines for the Townsend Times as I quickly grabbed my
covers from the dryer. “Local Youth
Murdered in Basement. If Only She Had
Remembered The Sheets Earlier.” It
helped a little. And since I’ve lived to
tell the tale, I’m clearly fine.
As I said, normally I love nighttime. It’s odd- I’m more scared walking around my
house in Townsend than I am jaunting around Boston at 1 am.
I forgot to mention in my last post, Jon and I even took a candlelit
ghost tour of Salem last Friday. I wasn’t
scared at all. This probably had
something to do with the fact that we were both still drunk. Also, the tour guide girl kept apologizing
for how lame it was. We loved her.
Plus, I was too distracted with drunk texting my ex. *Face Palm* That was great. To steal a line from my friend Brian, no one
ever looks at a drunk text after sobering up and says, “Wow, I sounded
awesome. I should do that more often.”
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