Things that go Thump

When it snows in the country, it can give you the feeling of being wrapped in a warm blanket, especially when you know you have now where to be. 

So when the weatherman predicted that snow would be descending on southern Minnesota for the weekend I was excited. I had two days off of work, a house to clean, a little boy to cuddle with and romance novel to get lost in. 

But what really happens.

The power goes off. 

This isn’t that big of a deal, until you live in an old house in the middle of nowhere. 

Then you get scared witless. 

I know I have chronicled the hubby’s creeped out feelings about living in an old house, but now it is my turn.

Saturday morning the hubby had left for work, braving an unplowed road with three inches of freshly fallen snow and I had settled in to the task taming the wildness of what we call home. I was making great progress. Darren was fed and playing, the dishwasher was running and I was finally folding mountain of clothes that covered our kitchen table. 

Being comfortable with the sounds our old house makes and with the fact that it can be weird sometimes, I didn’t even blink when the lights flickered and dimmed every once in a while.

Then the power goes out and puts a wrench in my housewifely duties. 

In all honestly, I didn’t mind. I just proceeded to wrap Darren and me in a blanket. As I start playing with him I try to shake off the feeling of eeriness. 

The house it completely quiet. No water heater or furnace kicking in. No nothing. 

Except Darren’s trying to have a serious conversation with me.

“UUUUUUUUUbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbeeeeeeeeeeer, EEEEEEEEEEAaaaaaaH”

“Really, man? I know the power went out but it’s ok.”

 

“Bababababababa…bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuh.”

“I agree. We should text daddy and let him know.” I pull out my phone which Darren tries to confiscate.

Then….

THUD. THUD

Then…

The house shudders.

My heart drops and my ears going into hyper hearing mode. Every few moments there are thuds coming from above, these are followed by the house shuddering.

My mind goes into overdrive. Then I remember my sister-in-law swearing her and my brother heard someone walking around upstairs one night during a thunderstorm. My heart starts beating in my throat.

Then I tell myself to stop being so ridiculous. There is a perfectly explainable reason for all these noises in a quiet house. 

After twenty minutes a pure freaked out weirdness, and visions of a translucent ghost appearing in the doorway of the living room to talk to Darren and me, I realize what it is:  

Snow falling on the roof from the trees and the wind shaking the front patio.

See, I have my creepy old house moments too.

I am a point to tell my hubby. 

“Babe, if you think this house can be creepy with a bunch of noises, you should be here when it’s completely silent.”

He laughs at me, but he totally agrees. 

Ask him how it feels when you’re alone in the house and the power kicks back in, while you’re on the toilet. 

Yeah, he was just as freaked out as I was.

Tears, The Hangover, and Romance Novels

I am mentally exhausted.

One week I am childless and the next I am hubbyless. Both weeks I am a tearful basket case, over the smallest situations too; pure ridiculousness.

Do I smell a little undiagnosed postpartum depression going on? I think so.

Everyone, from doctors, to nurses, to friends, warned me about these moments.

“You’ll just be bawling for no reason.”

But once again I thought I had miraculously frog leaped this segment of child birthing. Negatory. Six months later it hits me, and makes me think I am going crazy, wondering why I am fighting tears at every turn. Fighting so much that after two days of the nonsense my eyes are tired. Drooping actually.

Luck has it that every time I sit down to get it out of my system, my tear ducts act like they’re dried out. The traitors.

If the hubby had known I was to this point he wouldn’t have gone to Vegas.

Yes, I said it. My hubby is in Vegas, and no I am not concerned. Lying. I am worried about his safety like crazy, but in general I am fine with it. I did have a mini heart attack when he told me that he and his buddies were watching The Hangover.

“Hey babe, howya doin?”

“Good, we are about to South Dakota.” Suddenly there is laughter. Lots of it.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing, we’re just watching The Hangover.” He does his manly giggly thing.

“What?! Now why would you watch that on your way to Vegas?” I am exasperated.

“Why not?”

“Goodness, you have your medical card?”

“Yes babe.” It’s his turn to be exasperated.

What can I say? I have a very clear vision of a hospital scene from said movie floating around in m head.

He did have one condition to his going though. He wanted me to stay at my parents place.

So here I am.

Writing this blog on a scrap of paper because I tired turning on the computer and it decided to die on me, even though its plugged in, but its been that type of day.

After fishing my earring out of the toilet (don’t ask, it was clean water if you were wondering), ripping my contact in half (the other half was still in my eye) and searching fro the elusive nuk again, I am not surprised. 

No wonder I am exhausted. I definitely need some RNR.

Yep, that’s right. Romance Novel Relaxation.