|Told you I was a recluse...no picture|
I've turned into Howard Hughes...I'm just missing the billions of dollars in net worth, a little facial hair, and the extremely long fingernails.
From the deck, during daylight hours, I am becoming the crazy old lady who tells the little children not to run down the middle of the street.
At midnight, I become a skulker. Eddy, our cat, escaped again. She sat at the bottom of the deck steps, daring me to come after her. We do a cat and mouse game, if you will, clockwise around the van, the frisky feline eluding my grasp. She seems to be enjoying her outing, and reverses directions. The second time, we do the same trip, only counterclockwise.
Ever defiant, she sits calmly in the driveway, waiting for me to get closer before she darts across the street. I give up the chase, as I am hesitant to go skulking in a neighbor's yard and be mistaken for a ne'er-do-well.
I find I am not the only skulker out tonight. I look out on a house on the next street. There are two shady looking characters with flashlights, roaming around their driveway and yard, flashlight beams aimed at the ground in front of them. Maybe they're looking for lost keys or a dropped lucky rabbit's foot. I once searched a motel room in vain for Erin's lost retainer. It's hard to say what they were looking for.
Maybe they were in training for the London Olympic Games Synchronized Flashlight Team competition (go USA!).
Or perhaps it's a Druid pre-Venus transit celebration ceremony, and they were shining the lights in a pattern that matches the trajectory of Venus in front of the Sun. Unless that is one of my reclusive delusions.
Maybe I should skulk back outside in the dark to tell those neighbors to visit this site, where it shows the time/route for the event.
Then again, maybe not. Eddy and the neighbors will have to fend for themselves.
According to this quiz, I'm a Recluse-in-Training. How did you fare?