I haven't talked much about Chuck's ghostbusting lately, mainly because he hasn't talked much about it. I asked him not to after I had a steady stream of nightmares in which he appeared as a floating head. Oh, and I still kind of skeeve my dining room because of the whole sea captain thing.
The truth is that I believe in ghosts/spirits/floating things, but I don't want them to know that.
Chuck has obliged my request to not be in the know by having all his ghostbusting conversations in the basement. But dangitall, there I was vacuuming this morning when the cord flew out of the socket and the vacuum went dead. My ear was thisclose to the baseboards. Chuck was talking really loud. I tried to pull myself away, but I couldn't. There was talk of flying bottles. Missing pets. Mysterious scratches.
I finally walked away-right after I'd sufficiently freaked myself the fuck out.
To calm myself, I took Junior to Target. If you didn't already know, pretty red bull's eyes are the ideal anecdote to the geebies. (And in case you missed it, enchiladas are the perfect after-being-robbed food. You come here to learn, I know.)
After our glitzy trip, I found myself on a remote back road somewhere near Mulletville. Hoping that Junior would fall asleep, I'd taken the long way home and had gotten us lost. I was about to turn around when I saw a big sign for a corn maze.
Hooey! Fun with corn!
We drove up a dirt road. Sure enough there was an old man sitting by a big ass field of corn. I can't be sure, but I think he had a glass eye. We were the only ones there. I asked how long the maze was. He said it covered a few acres and could take as much time as I wanted. Seeing as I'm seven months pregnant and was in the company of an overtired, fickle toddler, I said we'd be out shortly.
Um, Mrs. Mullet, they call it a maze for a reason.
Every damn row of corn looked the same. We went in circles. We went in squares. The wind rustled through the corn husks. The husks loomed over our heads. There were no landmarks with which to get my bearings. I'd never seen Children of the Corn but I kept thinking of it.
Corn. Dead, hairy corn.
Then I started hearing Chuck's voice. The floating bottles. The pets that never came home. The husks rustled again. I thought I saw something a row over. I heard someone whispering. I heard the theme song from Halloween.
Run, Junior! Run!
Ultimately, the thing the saved me was my bladder. After we were out of eyesight of the farmer, I'd dropped trou and watered the plants. Twenty minutes later I'd done it again. And so on. We followed the um, markings, back to the entrance. I never thought I'd say this, but I love my pregnant bladder in a way I never thought possible.
I'm done eavesdropping. And I'm all set with corn until next summer. Even that might be too soon. Tell me: With Halloween right around the corner, do you like to spook yourself out? Do you like to be scared?
Every summer we go to the same BBQ at Denise and Matt's house for the fourth of July. We've done it since Junior was a baby an...
Toddlers mispronounce words. It's just what they do, and it's what makes the toddler years so darn cute. "Lello" for &...
At least I can admit that I'm emotionally immature, juvenile and unsupportive. Subtitle: Chuck could have done betterTry as I might, I cannot stop fantasizing about Chuck being creamed by a Mack truck (I know, poor Chuck, you must think I am the wife from...
I’m finally back from the David Gray concert in New York City. Yes, that was Saturday night and today is Tuesday, but I fell so in love with...