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03.08.05 - 10:07 am

for two girls who spend so little time at home, we have a startling ability to rack up bags and bags and bags of garbage.

and because we live on the third floor, and have a handy-dandy enclosed back porch, and have a dumpster in the alley [which is not-so-reassuringly guarded by a locked black metal fence with enormous open slits], the garbage doesn't get "taken out" as often as it should.

instead, we accumulate huge mounds of trashbags [we're talking something like 12-15 at a time] that end up getting removed in one drawn-out trip a couple times per month.

normally it's no big deal, when done in the comforting light of day. but last night when i began my garbage trek, i realized too late my mistake of watching a terrifying horror movie ["the grudge"] with jeremy the night before. horror movies don't typically have any kind of lasting effect on me beyond a stray nightmare here and there. fortunately for me, this little innocuous horror flick was replete with disturbing imagery involving stairs, mangled & bloody asian women mechanically crawling up and down them, and naked asian children with hollow eyes hiding in corners on them.

so combine these ghastly notions with a literally-howling wind, and an unwitting young girl climbing upanddown-upanddown-upanddown the steps ALONE, and some random unaccounted-for sounds... you got one frightened laura.

i tried phoning jeremy to have someone there "with" me while i finished my task, but his phone can be so unreliable [who knows if it even bothered to ring? it likes to play infuriating games like that with him...] and he never answered.

therefore, poor shannon had to stand in his stead. she was very good: she didn't make fun of me once, and she stayed on the phone the whole time, and comforted me with stories about her day.

so the moral of the story is:

1) i should always take my trash out during the day, and 2) i should maybe lay off the scary movies for a while.

*****

also, i started reading this book last night. i got it because i've been worrying a lot lately about what will physically happen to me when i die, and i wanted some unpleasant things i'd heard to be debunked [no luck so far... the whole process is rather nassssty].

i ended up having this horrible dream where j. killed himself and everyone was telling me so matter-of-factly, and i was hysterical. i was crying and screaming that he didn't believe in suicide, we'd had a conversation about it and i knew, absolutely, that he hadn't hung himself.

i think it was my subconscious trying to test out my heart, to see how i'd really feel. it was completely miserable, and my first impulse this morning was to try calling j. again just to make sure he's still alive.

even beyond that, i know why i had the dream. and i don't appreciate it very much at all.

 

 

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