Which doesn’t really make me feel good about curling up in bed and drifting off to sleep.
I have little quirks about noises. I don’t like it when he says he heard a gunshot because I immediately wonder where the gunman is hiding. This paranoia was not helped when we lived in college housing and out next door neighbors dismantled their dvd player and used the laser beam (the one that reads the dvd) to put pinpoints of light on us as though they were going to shoot us.
(And it was a bit of payback because I saw one of them zip by on his bicycle in a complete haze and told him if I’d wanted to I could snipe him from our backyard. The exchange started a sneaky, snipe-filled war between our households. All fun and games until several years later my husband tells me he heard a gun shot at 12:45 a.m.)
I also freak out when I hear a jet overhead.
Probably because I grew up with parents who lived through World War II, or maybe because our country is actually at war right now, or possibly because I’ve taken the history of Pearl Harbor too seriously, or perhaps because I’m just that strange, when I hear a jet overhead I instinctively decide we’re about to be bombed and I must run for cover.
I have no excuse for this. I do recognize it’s a bit abnormal. We all have paranoia in our lives, though, right?
Speaking of things that are simply strange, I watched the Polar Express tonight.
That is one creepy movie.
I love Tom Hanks, especially for his involvement in a League of Their Own, a movie that chokes me up every time, but Tom Hanks all animated and grumpy is creepy.
And those marionettes! Who ever decided to put those in a children’s movie?! Have they no decency and recognition that’s the stuff nightmares are made of?!
Alas, the film had been made and we have watched it as a family.
It remains to be seen if the children wake up in the middle of the night to scream because the train is coming off the track or a demented puppet is clawing at their shoulders.
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