My husband learned he had an emergency business trip for several weeks that began on this same day.
In decades of marriage, I'd learned these 'extended business trips' coincided with local apocalypse:
Storm doors blew off hinges. Pets and children went missing. Roofs leaked, about which I was happy: I stuck plants underneath the drippage. It was the only way they'd get watered.
That's when I spotted a shadow... turd-shaped... of a being resting its corpse on the top tier of the square aluminum conductor-fins that wrap around the pipe inside the baseboard.
Actually, in fairness, once I’d spied the turd-shadow and enjoyed a panic attack, I scream-handed her the flashlight to get a closer look. Abby went in like a pro, got close, then announced, “I see a tail … and one eye looking up at me.”
The beast was resting inside a baseboard. Using my literary-device skills, I thought about THEME.
Death Smell, Part II
I just this second had to have Abby help me push a dead, obviously pregnant, female rodent in the driveway onto a paper plate so I could cast it into the wilderness out back.
I had that same psychological context-memory of Nick's hematologist, when he was diagnosed with a bleeding disorder. Before we knew it wasn't anything like leukemia, I pictured her with spiky, dark teeth, an overbite, garrish red lipstick and dark, over processed hair.
|I know, yuck, right? :(|