closets and corners like some obsessive - compulsive paranoid, but stretch the legs and make sure all the valuable stuff was still in place. Think I have a good bottle of pinot noir in the…
And that’s when the ice maker in the standing freezer decided to drop a load of fresh ice into the holding tank with a thunk.
I finally understood why startled people wet their pants. And while I didn’t actually do that, I enjoyed the feeling of having to catch myself. Followed up by a new feeling of one part embarrassment and two parts pissed. I let out a classic combo - curse and slammed my hand against the stainless steel surface of the freezer. Which hurt. And didn’t ease my heart rate. But somehow made me feel a bit better, simply because I went from being afraid of finding someone in my home to sort of hoping I’d find someone so that I could take out an aggression or two (as long as that someone wasn’t extremely larger than me).
With newfound determination, I walked through some of the key areas of the house. I saw no signs of disturbance, and of course didn’t find any evil SUV drivers hiding out. I passed through our den and pulled a bottle of wine from the rack. Twisting out the cork, I poured a glass and practically inhaled my first sip. Running my fingers through my hair — slippery with grease and hospital grunge — I moved toward my shower so that I could resume my original plan of relaxing for the remaining Sunday.
Five hours later, I went to bed. I was beginning to assemble the structure of my Monday, feeling relief in the narrow focus of my company and what I needed to accomplish. All of the events outside of that faded out as if they were some show I’d seen on TV; engrossing for a while, but ultimately disposable. Even Peter’s injury would simply turn out to be a story that would in time become a humorous family anecdote. Before turning off the light, I called Suze from our bed.
“You awake?” I asked. She’d answered with a husky, clogged voice.
“I think so,” she said. “Not really sure.”
“You don’t do him any good if you’re not sharp. It’s not like he’s going to get out of that bed and try to dance drunk on the hospital roof.”
“Very funny,” she said. “You know, it’s just so miserable in this hospital room. Even though he won’t admit it, having me here has to make it more tolerable.”
“It’ll be more tolerable for him if that redhead nurse comes back on shift.”
“No chance of that,” she said. “We’re out of here tomorrow; she’s off until Wednesday. We’re stuck with ogre - lady and the bat - faced one.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“Get him back to his apartment, run around and get his meds. Dote.”
“All skills you excel at,” I smiled. I’ve not had many health challenges but had to admit she had a talent for making it easier.
“So you’ll be home by midweek?” I asked.
“Like you miss me,” she said.
“Just need my sense of order and normalcy.”
“I don’t know. I’ll let you know so you have a chance to pick up your socks before I get there.”
“Appreciate it. I’m going to bed.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Sometimes it’s easy. I turned off my phone and rolled over, hoping I’d sleep through the night.
Ka-thump .
Darkness.
I was sweating. Not unusual; I sleep hot.
First question: Where am I? Back home.
Second question: Still night? What time? Clock’s in its usual place. It’s 1:32 a.m.
Third question: What woke me? A Ka-thump .
Fourth question: Was there really a Ka-thump or did I dream it? Hard to tell. I think there really was a Ka-thump .
Last question: What was the Ka-thump ?
I tried to clear the fog of sleep and tapped my short - term memory to see if I could recreate the Ka-thump and match it with typical noises implanted in my memory. (Another batch of ice dropping in the kitchen? Nope). I went back to the theory that it’d been a dream but could gain no foothold with
And that’s when the ice maker in the standing freezer decided to drop a load of fresh ice into the holding tank with a thunk.
I finally understood why startled people wet their pants. And while I didn’t actually do that, I enjoyed the feeling of having to catch myself. Followed up by a new feeling of one part embarrassment and two parts pissed. I let out a classic combo - curse and slammed my hand against the stainless steel surface of the freezer. Which hurt. And didn’t ease my heart rate. But somehow made me feel a bit better, simply because I went from being afraid of finding someone in my home to sort of hoping I’d find someone so that I could take out an aggression or two (as long as that someone wasn’t extremely larger than me).
With newfound determination, I walked through some of the key areas of the house. I saw no signs of disturbance, and of course didn’t find any evil SUV drivers hiding out. I passed through our den and pulled a bottle of wine from the rack. Twisting out the cork, I poured a glass and practically inhaled my first sip. Running my fingers through my hair — slippery with grease and hospital grunge — I moved toward my shower so that I could resume my original plan of relaxing for the remaining Sunday.
Five hours later, I went to bed. I was beginning to assemble the structure of my Monday, feeling relief in the narrow focus of my company and what I needed to accomplish. All of the events outside of that faded out as if they were some show I’d seen on TV; engrossing for a while, but ultimately disposable. Even Peter’s injury would simply turn out to be a story that would in time become a humorous family anecdote. Before turning off the light, I called Suze from our bed.
“You awake?” I asked. She’d answered with a husky, clogged voice.
“I think so,” she said. “Not really sure.”
“You don’t do him any good if you’re not sharp. It’s not like he’s going to get out of that bed and try to dance drunk on the hospital roof.”
“Very funny,” she said. “You know, it’s just so miserable in this hospital room. Even though he won’t admit it, having me here has to make it more tolerable.”
“It’ll be more tolerable for him if that redhead nurse comes back on shift.”
“No chance of that,” she said. “We’re out of here tomorrow; she’s off until Wednesday. We’re stuck with ogre - lady and the bat - faced one.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“Get him back to his apartment, run around and get his meds. Dote.”
“All skills you excel at,” I smiled. I’ve not had many health challenges but had to admit she had a talent for making it easier.
“So you’ll be home by midweek?” I asked.
“Like you miss me,” she said.
“Just need my sense of order and normalcy.”
“I don’t know. I’ll let you know so you have a chance to pick up your socks before I get there.”
“Appreciate it. I’m going to bed.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Sometimes it’s easy. I turned off my phone and rolled over, hoping I’d sleep through the night.
Ka-thump .
Darkness.
I was sweating. Not unusual; I sleep hot.
First question: Where am I? Back home.
Second question: Still night? What time? Clock’s in its usual place. It’s 1:32 a.m.
Third question: What woke me? A Ka-thump .
Fourth question: Was there really a Ka-thump or did I dream it? Hard to tell. I think there really was a Ka-thump .
Last question: What was the Ka-thump ?
I tried to clear the fog of sleep and tapped my short - term memory to see if I could recreate the Ka-thump and match it with typical noises implanted in my memory. (Another batch of ice dropping in the kitchen? Nope). I went back to the theory that it’d been a dream but could gain no foothold with
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