Nothing To See, Nothing To See...

My student worker, whose name sounds like those bells on your toes, was overwhelmed by her obligations and quit until Christmas break. Ned's cat Fang, a 18 pound force of nature I used to carry around on my hip like a baby, died this week after more than sixteen years of mousing, ruling the roost and smoking Ned's Marlboros when no one was looking. Miss Sasha sent me a baker's rack for my kitchen, where boxes and bags still form an impressive pile and where that baker's rack would have been put to good use if UPS hadn't dicked me over twice and probably sent it back. I say probably because I don't know. I was at home when the truck should have arrived and nothing happened. It's an interesting experience to know that something, somewhere is wrong because nothing is happening.

Earlier this week, I woke up in the middle of the night with that creepy feeling that someone was in my bedroom with me. No, not the queasy feeling you've been dating drummers again, I mean the one where you feel fear before you open your eyes. The air doesn't feel still. I opened my eyes, ready to spring up and move, if I had to but there was no one there. I lay down, closed my eyes and tried to sleep. Maybe fifteen minutes passed and it happened again. And again. And again. Figuring the bedroom was giving me the creeps I lay down on the couch and turned on the TV. An hour and a half later I had no idea what I was watching and fell asleep again, for a bit. I'm not one of those big thinkers with wacky certainty about who's who or what's what in the realm of the metaphysical. More than ten years ago, I opened my bathroom door one morning, stepped through a small blond woman and thought nothing of it until I realized later that my small, blond, female housemate was still asleep in her bed and in fact not really porous enough to walk through. Generally. Anyway, this week I:

1. opened a window and demanded he leave - the man I saw walk through the front door while I was painting - because it's my apartment and who signed the lease, huh?
2. looked in the basement and found directly below my bedroom is the wall of electric meters, which is a rational explanation for that lit-up-with-fear feeling.

So: bases covered. My apartment needs a white witch and an electrician. Let the smudging and insulating begin!

In the meantime, insomnia gives a gal plenty of time to survey the culture. Adding to my instability, here's an incomplete list of haunting-related shows.

1. Ghost Whisperer. Haven't seen it, but Jennifer Love Hewitt is just as cute as tiny buttons, isn't she?
2. Medium. Please. I'm begging. Make Patricia Arquette stop WHINING!
3. Dead Famous. These two people should have a look at their own show because they don't know bupkis. During an episode where they were searching for the ghost of Buddy Holly it played out like Richie Valens was standing around shouting, "Hey! You're looking for a ghost, right? Ghost here!" Atrocious. Don't encourage these wankers.
4. Ghost Hunters. Wow. They look rational, don't they? How on earth did these guys from Rhode Island get a TV show without screaming like little girls every week?
5. Most Haunted. I cannot get enough of this British TV show. Our plot:

a. Haunted location. Stories. Crew visits.
b. Crew member: "Would anyone here like to communicate with us?"
c. A noise. Something falls down. A table shakes.
d. Crew runs screaming.
e. Repeat for 1 hour.
f. Staff psychologist tells them they're all wankers.

What's not to love?

Many times, when cats move house they freak, hide, don't eat or drink for days on end. You will be pleased to know that Larry, the little black cat bent on stealing your soul, arrived at his new digs a week ago, skulked out of the cat carrier and straightened right up. He climbs in and out of bags and boxes like he's got his own National Geographic special and a camera crew. Last night, I turned a corner and found him staring at me at eye level from atop a sideboard, which was a little unnerving since Larry's not much of a climber. Larry is fat, happy and busy. I guess some things are happening.