I don’t like going into our loft at the best of times for two very good reasons:
For one thing, last summer, when I had to go up there for something (always looking for ‘something’), just as I poked my head up inside the entrance being several steps up the loft ladder, as I reached out fumbling about for the light switch, I heard a very low, droning buzz so close to my face that I could almost feel it’s vibration. How I didn’t fall down the ladder I don’t know, but my husband, hearing my scream, came rushing to my rescue thinking I had seriously hurt myself, bless.
Seeing that I was fine (on the surface maybe, but did he not notice that my eyes were mad with terror at the thought of what kind of hideous creature might be living up there?), he determined that it was “probably nothing” (nothing?) and then, once going up there himself and investigating, decided that it was, in fact, “just a queen wasp” (just a queen wasp??) which was squirming about in a gap in the loft boards (centimeters from where my head had been only seconds before, the utter horror of it all!) before flicking it out, onto the landing below (where I was standing…!) whereupon our cat Maisy promptly leapt on it and started to play with it.
The other reason is that ever since my daughter cajoled me to go and see the movie ‘Sinister’ with her at the cinema some month’s ago, each time I go up there now I’m convinced that I’m going to come across a strange-looking cardboard box conveniently placed in full view (but was not there before) and when I open it up, it will be filled with dodgy homemade movies (not that kind of dodgy, but as in spooky and weird) which I shall be compelled to watch and it will all go downhill from there (I’ve got a very vivid imagination as you can tell).
If you’ve seen the film, you’ll know what I’m talking about, and if you haven’t…well…don’t.
It’s no wonder, then, that I am just a bit stressed. I’ve been up and down that loft ladder endlessly these past couple of weeks. I’m trying to find articles of clothing usually worn in warmer climates which have been put away for the winter and not seen or worn by any human since last October since it has been too frigid to wear anything other than thick wooleys and thermals.
I’ve also made endless lists, having a main list with numerous sub-lists and still they keep multiplying…things to do, to buy, to find, to remember, on and on.
The cats have been throwing up all over the place (sure sign of a reaction to all the recent commotion), I wake up at 3 am remembering all the things that I forgot to put on ‘the list’ (or was that the sub-list, or the pre-list, oh I can’t remember!) and I’ve driven in and out of our driveway more times than a fiddler’s elbow.
Exhaustion! Panic! Stress! All this can only mean only one thing…I’m going on holiday!
I’ve gone on about it for ages now, so apologies if you are fed up hearing about it, but my daughter and I are ready for the off, at long last, to California and, in all seriousness, we are so excited, elated and we can’t wait! It has been hard-fought but we made it, yes, we did.
So, dear readers, after three months of blogging almost to the day, I just wanted you to let you know that I am temporarily signing off from my blog for the next couple of weeks but I hope that you won’t forget about me and will still be here when I return!
Oh, and just one more thing, please spare a thought for my dear husband who is holding down the fort and house/cats/hamster/snake sitting in our absence but who I suspect secretly can’t wait for us to go so that he can eat chips in curry sauce every night for supper, watch endless hours of all his classic car shows on Dave and enjoy a bit of peace and quiet. He can’t fool me!
I leave you now, as I really have to get on with the packing, but in the words of one certain ‘terminated’ Governor of California:
Hasta La Vista, Baby…I’ll be back!