Monday, July 1, 2013

And Time Slowed Down

So there I was, just sitting on the living room floor, minding my own business. I was surrounded by my recipe binders as I struggled to reorganize them. The cookie and dessert recipes were taking over and had busted out of their existing binders so it was time to do a bit of cleanup. But that's not what this long-winded, boring tale is about. It's about the the feathery-legged, squirming, skittering critter that appeared from under the couch and made a mad dash right toward me.

I was in no condition to move quickly. I was surrounded by recipes. I was sitting on the floor, legs splayed out awkwardly, recipes balanced on my shins and thighs. But even though I was in no condition to move quickly, the adrenaline must have kicked in because I did move quickly, perhaps  more quickly than I have ever moved in my life. I leapt to my feet in a single graceful movement, recipes flying around me like butterflies, or like blood geysers in a slow-motion Quentin Tarrantino scene. I danced across the carpet as the critter advanced, still making a beeline for me despite the flailing limbs and shrieking.

The entire world slowed down. The recipes continued their slow upward and outward flight. The hubby rose from his chair like a satiated lion slowly rising its head from the grasses of an African savannah to watch a passing gazelle. My hand slowly moved outward, pointing to the critter that now seemed to be advancing like a snail across the carpet in a world slowed down.

I pulled my foot back as if moving through molasses and the critter oozed over the vacant footprint where my foot has been moments before, carpet fibers still springing back as it crossed the depression.

I landed across the room in a crouch, knees bending to take the impact, arms outspread,every nerve tingling as if covered in thousands of centipedes. And as I landed, all at once the recipes fluttered to the rug, the hubby turned his head, the critter skittered beneath the couch and my shrieks echoed and reverberated off the walls, fading into silence. It was gone. Beneath the couch. There would be no finding it now.

But I'm sure it will show its face, and its legs again. When I least expect it I'm sure



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