Everyone has a skill in which they’re particularly savvy. Some talents are more impressive than others.
Take this guy, for example:
Or this gentleman, who clearly has a lot of time on his hands,
Based on many happy hour conversations, my girlfriend, Beau, is a master mouse clicker,
Some skills aren’t as useful as others. So what is this girl’s contribution to the world during her time on planet Earth?
You might think cooking or baking based on previous posts, “master of wasting time” may have crossed your mind…
In my 31 years of life, I’ve become proficient in the art of worry/paranoia/OCD.
- I will check AT LEAST three times to ensure I’ve unplugged the blow dryer and/or hair straightener prior to leaving the house.
- I will jiggle the door knob and push on the door multiple times to ensure it is locked. In addition, if my husband and I leave the house together, and he is the one locking the door, I will watch to make sure he does a knob jiggle and push before we get in the car.
- I run up the basement stairs after dark to ensure any zombies, spirits, demons or white walkers don’t have a chance to “get me.”
- My feet can’t hang off the end or edge of the bed at night. Ever since I watched Paranormal Activity, I think about an invisible presence grabbing my ankles and dragging me down the basement stairs into the “Detective Stabler Room.**”
Last night, B-Bones woke me up at 3:00 am. You can’t just shoo this cat away. He is a persistent little monster, and if he wants to be snuggled and petted at odd hours of the night, he will give up at nothing.
He then grabs my hair with his teeth and starts pulling. If that doesn’t work, he’ll start nibbling on my arms or face, and progress to full on biting if I’m in a really deep sleep.
I get up, use the bathroom, go outside to have a smoke, then crawl back in bed.
3:15 am: “meow.” “Meow….” (hair pulling begins). I start to pet B-Bones and he lays down on the bed . I begin to doze back off.
3:25 am: “meow” (arm biting begins). I roll over onto my back, and let him crawl up on my chest. He lays down, and acts all extra adorable.
3:30 am: Now I’m almost fully awake. My brain starts leaking, as it often does if I’m having trouble falling asleep. It’s like my mind gets stuck on “infinite loop,” and I start sifting through all of items on my to-do list, like a revolving door that goes nowhere,
3:45am: I’m not sure why I never do this sooner, but I finally throw B-Bones out of the bedroom and shut the door. Like most nights, he opens a chapter of The Sad Cat Diary and proceeds to spend the next fifteen minutes singing the song of his people, as per protocol.
4:05am: OMG. What was that? I hear a noise outside of the bedroom. B-Bones has ceased body slamming the door and howling.
Should I get up?
Maybe I should go check.
But what if it’s an intruder? Or worse, what if it’s one of those things that I’m afraid of in the basement? I reconsider thoughts from previous nights like this, and tell myself that this time I will put a knife in the nightstand come morning. Well, that OR I’ll get my hands on some dragon glass.
4:10am: Ok. THAT was a noise. It sounded like glass breaking. A parade of fire trucks and marching bands could come through our bedroom, and my husband still wouldn’t stir from his slumber.
I get up.
Of course it’s B-Bones. He’s hovering over a case of beer bottles waiting to be recycled. And then I see it. I see what all of the commotion is about.
THERE, AMONGST THE BEER BOTTLES, IS A SPIDER… THE SIZE OF A PANCAKE. He and B-Bones are playing a little game in the maze of bottles.
I put on my brave face, grab a magazine off the table, and go postal on this thing.
B-Bones is displeased. I, however, have just conquered the Godzilla of spiders.
4:30 am: “Zzzzzzz.”
**The “Detective Stabler Room” is an area of my basement cut outside of the foundation. It’s about 4x4x5 feet, and has dirt walls, floor and ceiling. I think it’s supposed to be a root cellar, but who knows? I wouldn’t go in there… even if a tornado were coming straight for me. Pretty sure that’s where the stuff I’m afraid of in the basement waits for me.