There’s something wrong with me. Okay, there are many things wrong with me, but my biggest problem – by far – is my overactive imagination. Normally, I would say my imagination was my prized possession, but “normal” tends to fall between dawn and dusk. Imagination and nighttime do not seem to mix. To wit:
One night last week, as I was putting Bee back to bed for the 5th time, I thought I heard something in the living room. Well, I did not (exactly) think it was in the living room; rather, I was in the living room when I thought I heard it. In fact, it was pretty darn bright in the living room since it was the night of the brightest full moon I can remember having in quite some time. On my way back through the living room, having tucked my youngest back into bed and extracted a fervent promise that she would not ever get back up again, I decided I most certainly had heard something – I very confused bird was perched atop my chimney and was trilling his morning song at the moon.
“Damn bird,” I thought. “Stupid thing thinks it’s daytime, the moon is so bright. Boy is he gonna have a long day tomorrow. Stupid bird.” And off I went back to sleep.
Cue another back-to-bed trek, this time a few nights later. Now the room isn’t quite so bright. But guess what? Yep, the bird is still singing. Not nearly quite so gustily as last time, but he’s there. I half-thought some pointed remarks in his direction and I sleepwalked my way back to bed and fell right back to sleep, thankful that the crazybird wasn’t busy being confused right next to my bedroom window.
So it went over the course of this past week. Any time I woke up during the night, I heard the bird. I started to wonder if it was really just a creaky vent or that spinny-around thing on top of the house, but it sounded definitely bird-like. Plus, it trilled a definite song, not just a constant repetition of one or two notes. Bird. Definitely. A crazybird, but still. Bird.
And then there was this weekend, the lovely moment when the balance of crazy shifted from the stupid bird into my own sanity ledger. Because, see, I was up until 3 a.m. on Saturday night, and as I was walking through the house shutting off lights, I heard the bird again. This time I got confirmation from Mike. “See? Do you hear that?!” I demanded. Crazy bird. And right on the heels of my victory, as Mike and I were making fun of the stupid mixed-up bird, wondering what kind of songbird stays up all night singing, it hit me – I have a vampire bird stalking my house. The damn things just waiting to suck my blood and make me one of them!
And that is when I decided that I am never allowed to a) sleep alone or b) wonder anything ever again. My mind just can’t be trusted to stay on the tracks with that one. Vampire birds. Heh. Crazy never sounded so good.
Tags: imagination
June 27, 2011 at 8:10 am |
You are too funny. At least it isn’t an Angry Bird.
June 27, 2011 at 11:52 am |
Maybe this is lucky. Maybe Stephen King himself will read your blog and think it’s a fantastic idea for his next novel and will want to be besties and share the royalties in exchange for the rights to the story!
ooh and maybe the bird will know who he is too (cause helllllo stephen king!) and be all “holy shit its stephen king!…tweet!” and then flap its ass out of there, away from crazy scary author.
June 27, 2011 at 1:55 pm |
So this is what the sleep deprived sound like. Sounds familiar:)
June 27, 2011 at 6:06 pm |
omg! laughing so hard. i have a few of dem vampire birds lurking over here at ungodly hours of the morning. lol.
sending you lots of love (and a bit of shut-eye)
June 27, 2011 at 7:06 pm |
Perhaps shooting it while naked will help. (Remember in “Failure to Launch”?)
June 27, 2011 at 7:44 pm |
I approve Mary’s plan! But only if you execute it (the plan, and also maybe the bird) before or after my August in tejas…