Monday, February 7, 2011

I'm not crazy, which is actually a bad thing


{Not my attic, but probably what my attic looks like. Image.}

I believe that life should be approached with a healthy pinch of paranoia. We should be wary of those skeevy people that make our skin crawl, like the creepy guy watching you while leaning up against his white, unmarked van. And yes, you should be skeptical of anyone who tries to give you anything nice for free. Nothing is free. Everyone knows that.

However, I like to approach life with at least two large pinches of paranoia instead of one. I worry about noises, I'm skeptical of people and watch entirely too much 48 Hours: Mystery for my own good. Related? Probably. The thing about being paranoid all the time is that you're usually only correct 25% of the time. But that 25% is just the inspiration you need to continue your quest into complete anxiety. Take someone breaking into our house, for example: this worries me significantly. It actually happened once and almost happened a second time. Paranoia necessary!

The other thing that worries me? Weird noises. Anyone who lives in any structure of any kind will tell you: structures, especially houses, make noises. Lots of noises, actually. Pipes make noises. Vents make noises. Heck, even the foundation makes noises. It just happens. So, a few months ago when I began hearing a bizarre scratching sound in the attic and on various ceilings throughout my house, my paranoia kicked up a notch. Intruder? Rodent? Squirrel? What on earth could be scratching a Morse-code like message to me on the ceiling? Was it the frog, mouse and roach back from the grave?

I have no idea, because every time (and I mean Every. Time.) I heard the noise, my husband was either A. Not home or B. In another room and by the time he arrived, it had stopped. This thing was trying to make me look bad---and succeeding handily. Knowing the old "My paranoia is always correct 25% of the time" rule to always be true, I kept listening closely. And wouldn't you know it? You would know it, because I heard the noise on Saturday and A. My husband was home and B. The noise continued when he entered the room. I hit the paranoia jackpot.

The thing about winning said "lottery" however is that you must deal with the aftermath. No, not needy family members who want money and new cars from your new found wealth, I mean you have to continue to listen to the scratching into the wee hours of the night and lose sleep over your inability to control the situation. I'm pretty sure I never slept even one half of one wink last night. As any paranoid person will tell you, worrying about things you cannot control is a must. A must, I tell you.

So my dear husband, the one who didn't hear the scratching for months has been awarded the top prize: he gets to figure out what's living in the attic. And get rid of it. So his wife will stop being so damn paranoid. Jackpot!

1 comment:

Leontien said...

haha! i think you would enjoy my post,
mousehunt i granny pants!

Thanks
Leontien

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