I'm such a big chicken...or is it turkey?

I'm a scaredy cat. It doesn't take much to have me hiding under the covers in fear of some unseen boogey man. (Don't ask me why people like me pull the covers over our heads when we are frightened. That not only makes us chicken, but it makes us stupid as well. There is no way a thin little sheet is going to save us from any monster...unless it's a killer drier sheet).

Anyway.

I've been a little extra jumpy since we returned from Seattle. I have a good reason too. There was a haunted elevator that kept trying to kidnap me. No really there was. Every time I got on that particular elevator and pushed the first floor it would take me to the basement, but the door wouldn't open. Then it would take me up to the fourth floor (or some other floor...it varied) and the door wouldn't open. It was very creepy and more than once I ended up pressed against the door saying, 'let me out!'

Like I said, I'm a scaredy cat.

But it really is true! That elevator had it in for me. Mom and Lauren sat there and watched it stop on the first floor once and then not open. They were waiting on me and they couldn't figure out why the door wasn't opening. What they didn't know was that I was on the other side once again saying, 'let me out!' Of course Lauren didn't help matters by telling me it was probably haunted by an ancient Swedish Nun and mom didn't help by waiting until it was quiet on the elevator and then jumping around, cupping her face with her hands and yelling, 'boogida-boogida-boogida'. After that I really hated that elevator.

So you can see why I was a little jumpy when I got home from the trip what with all the haunted elevators and scary ancient nun stories. I mean who was to say the nun didn't follow me home? She could have jumped into my suitcase. She may be running (or floating) amuck in my house looking for an elevator to lock me in. Only HA! The jokes on her. I don't have an elevator.

Anyway, this current jumpiness led to me screaming in horror and almost wetting my pants early this morning in my own home. I was up early and doing some housework when I ran across one of Dave's windbreakers that needed to be hung up. I grabbed it and went into the front hall to place it in the coat closet. I didn't turn on the light because the girls were still asleep. Instead I reached into that dark and shadowy closet, praying there weren't spiders or nuns and groped around for a hanger.


Only instead of a hanger my hand wrapped around something really weird feeling. I peered into the darkness and saw a beedy eye staring at me from a severed head. Like any rational adult would do I screamed at the top of my lungs, ran like fool and jumped under my covers. After a little while when no severed head came after me with killer drier sheets I worked up the nerve to go back and get a closer look at whatever was staring at me in the dark closet. I turned on the light and saw this:




It's a turkey decoy my husband uses for hunting. I'm thinking of sicking the nun on him. This is all his fault.