Proof I am a closet wimp
Harry has been telling me about last week when she was home alone. Apparently in the middle of one night she got up to go to the toilet. The toilet it merely two steps from her bedroom so no need for lights (although if you were to take two steps in the wrong direction you would have an free introduction to Newton's views on gravitational forces courtesy of the staircase). Anyway, she emerge from the bathroom still in 'Harry Zombie Mode' and proceed to nearly step on a cat. She screamed. (we don't have a cat).
The cat apparently looked as scared as she felt and headed down the stairs at fast as its little legs would take it. Harry went back to sleep. The next morning Harry went to investigate and found that the cat flap in our back door had lost (totally disappeared) the protect cover that was on the inside of it to stop cats coming in. Seems the cat had been using our house as its own while we were both away.
Well so far this post has been all about Harry and we can't have that so this is where I come in. I am glad I was not at home when this happened. Not because it could have been me coming out of the bathroom (I tend not to have to use the WC mid-slumber, except after heavy boozing). But rather because her scream would have woken me up. This in itself I can live with, but I would have (as the burly/only man of the house) been expected to investigate the reason for the scream. Of course my over excitable imagination would hark back to a particularly violent episode of CrimeWatch and I would instantly conclude that outside my bedroom door would be 10 terrorist in masks with big guns and they wouldn't just want to borrow a cup of sugar. Then I would make the decision that it would be best not for two of us to be brutally murdered, so I would grab my dressing gown and camera (not going to lose that again) and head out of my window and escape certain death via the kitchen roof to safety.
So if I had been at home, not only would we now be needing a new corrugated plastic roof for the kitchen but also Harry would know that I am not nearly as hard/dangerous/brave/sacrificial as I might have lead her to believe.
Shame that she reads this blog from time to time. I guess the truth had to come out some time!
The cat apparently looked as scared as she felt and headed down the stairs at fast as its little legs would take it. Harry went back to sleep. The next morning Harry went to investigate and found that the cat flap in our back door had lost (totally disappeared) the protect cover that was on the inside of it to stop cats coming in. Seems the cat had been using our house as its own while we were both away.
Well so far this post has been all about Harry and we can't have that so this is where I come in. I am glad I was not at home when this happened. Not because it could have been me coming out of the bathroom (I tend not to have to use the WC mid-slumber, except after heavy boozing). But rather because her scream would have woken me up. This in itself I can live with, but I would have (as the burly/only man of the house) been expected to investigate the reason for the scream. Of course my over excitable imagination would hark back to a particularly violent episode of CrimeWatch and I would instantly conclude that outside my bedroom door would be 10 terrorist in masks with big guns and they wouldn't just want to borrow a cup of sugar. Then I would make the decision that it would be best not for two of us to be brutally murdered, so I would grab my dressing gown and camera (not going to lose that again) and head out of my window and escape certain death via the kitchen roof to safety.
So if I had been at home, not only would we now be needing a new corrugated plastic roof for the kitchen but also Harry would know that I am not nearly as hard/dangerous/brave/sacrificial as I might have lead her to believe.
Shame that she reads this blog from time to time. I guess the truth had to come out some time!
posted by Nurton at 8:08 am
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