So here I am, at my mom’s house. I walked in the door and threw open three of the windows. I’m too chicken to open any more. The flimsy screens don’t offer much protection from what’s *out there.* It’s quiet here. TOO quiet. Unnaturally quiet. Or perhaps I should say, naturally quiet. I can hear frogs. And things scratching around in the underbrush. I am 99.9% sure I can hear an animal snoring somewhere out there in the not-quite-but-almost wilderness. The ticking of the clock is punctuated regular intervals of rustling, and the odd croak. I am not quite sure what to make of this.
I parked the car out front, and approached the house in utter darkness. City folk will not be able to understand what I mean by “utter darkness.” City darkness is like wearing a pair of sunglasses. Country darkness is like having your eyes taped shut with black electrical tape.
The moment I stepped out of the car I was greeted by a swarm of mosquitoes. They were waiting for me. Of this I am sure. I blindly tripped along the front lawn (man, I hope I didn’t trod into a poison ivy patch) shooing them away while fumbling for the keys. I opened the door in record time. The idea of being eaten alive proved to be positive motivation for me.
The water hasn’t been turned on yet. That’s going to be taken care of in the morning. Don’t ask me where I’m going to go pee this evening. This beer is going to travel right through me too. :(
I drove three hours to get here. I didn’t rush. I stopped at Michael’s craftalooza store and spent $16.00 on fancy paper. Paper is my weakness. Shhh, don’t tell Mark. If he happens to find out please tell him it was on sale. I bought an iced latte and a yummy vanilla caramel stick thing at Starbucks, browsed the magazines (didn’t find Cloth, Paper, Scissors mag) and went on my merry way.
The drive was uneventful, yet mildly freaky only because my brain decided to stop working. Have I passed Perth? Am I going the right way? How come I don’t remember seeing that before? The irony here is that the town where my mom lives is almost a straight line from Ottawa. I so wish I had better navigational skills.
I will be picking her up at Lester B. airport tomorrow afternoon.
So in preparation for another burst of mindless driving I am going to sit back and relax. At least my mom is wired to the Internet. WHAT WOULD I DO WITHOUT IT? I know. I brought a book with me, one that I haven’t been able to put down: The Navigator of New York by Wayne Johnson (sp?). Anyone read it?
I am feeling mildly forlorn here. I am missing fun weekend stuff with the family. Oh well. Perhaps a stop at Yorkdale will cheer me up. Momma sure could use a new pair of shoes. And some bug spray.
