The Squealing

Last night I started watching Supernatural on regular TV at 9:00 PM. The creators thoughtfully vidded their own show at the beginning of the episode. I'm sure it would have been extremely spoilery if I hadn't been laughing too hard to really concentrate at things like a dramatic hospital scene followed by a male chorus yelling "HUH!" as a glass of liquid dramatically falls to the floor in slow motion.

Then the show began. It was at a carnival. There were clowns. Have I ever mentioned that clowns scare me? A particularly creepy clown waved at a little girl, in a slightly mechanical manner that made it even creepier.

"Look, Daddy," said the girl. "The clown's waving at me."

"What clown?" asked her mother. We see that from the parents' point of view, there is no one there.

I had a cat in my lap, or I would have leaped up and turned off the TV right then. (The remote is buried under a pile of junk somewhere.)

The family is driving home from the carnival at night. The clown is by the side of the road.

That night, the little girl is alone in her second-floor bedroom. She looks out the window. There, on the lawn below, looking up at her, is the clown.

I leaped up, dislodging the cat, and slammed the off button.

That night I was woken up in the middle of the night by my smoke detection giving off an obnoxious, high-pitched squeal to inform me that its battery was low. I couldn't figure out how to disable it, so I pulled a pillow over my head and tried to go back to sleep. But it was still pretty loud, and then after a while I started hearing a different sound, a scratching, like my cats were molesting my wood furniture.

I got up to investigate, but the cats were nowhere to be seen. I went into the living room, and heard the sound again. I looked out the window.

There, on the lawn, looking up at me, was a clown.

Oh, no way, I thought. There is just no way I would see that TV show last night and then, in a total coincidence, find a clown on the lawn.

I looked out the window again. The clown was still there.

Then I heard the scratching noise again. I ran to the other window. Another clown had set up a ladder and was climbing up the side of the house.

I opened the window so I could talk to the clown. "What's going on here?" I asked. "What are you doing?"

The clown smiled and pointed over my shoulder. I whirled around. There was another clown standing behind me.

"What are you doing here?" I yelled. "How'd you get in? Get out!"

The clown smiled, picked up my five-pound dumb bells, and began to juggle them.

"Stop that!" I cried. "You'll drop them and scratch the floors! Go away!"

The floor creaked behind me. I turned around. The other two clowns were climbing in the window.

One of them took out a horn and honked it. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" it shrilled. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE..."

My eyes popped open. I was lying in bed, and the smoke alarm was squealing.

So it had all been a dream. Nothing but a horrible, horrible dream.

Or was it?

I hear a scratching at the win

The Squealing

Last night I started watching Supernatural on regular TV at 9:00 PM. The creators thoughtfully vidded their own show at the beginning of the episode. I'm sure it would have been extremely spoilery if I hadn't been laughing too hard to really concentrate at things like a dramatic hospital scene followed by a male chorus yelling "HUH!" as a glass of liquid dramatically falls to the floor in slow motion.

Then the show began. It was at a carnival. There were clowns. Have I ever mentioned that clowns scare me? A particularly creepy clown waved at a little girl, in a slightly mechanical manner that made it even creepier.

"Look, Daddy," said the girl. "The clown's waving at me."

"What clown?" asked her mother. We see that from the parents' point of view, there is no one there.

I had a cat in my lap, or I would have leaped up and turned off the TV right then. (The remote is buried under a pile of junk somewhere.)

The family is driving home from the carnival at night. The clown is by the side of the road.

That night, the little girl is alone in her second-floor bedroom. She looks out the window. There, on the lawn below, looking up at her, is the clown.

I leaped up, dislodging the cat, and slammed the off button.

That night I was woken up in the middle of the night by my smoke detection giving off an obnoxious, high-pitched squeal to inform me that its battery was low. I couldn't figure out how to disable it, so I pulled a pillow over my head and tried to go back to sleep. But it was still pretty loud, and then after a while I started hearing a different sound, a scratching, like my cats were molesting my wood furniture.

I got up to investigate, but the cats were nowhere to be seen. I went into the living room, and heard the sound again. I looked out the window.

There, on the lawn, looking up at me, was a clown.

Oh, no way, I thought. There is just no way I would see that TV show last night and then, in a total coincidence, find a clown on the lawn.

I looked out the window again. The clown was still there.

Then I heard the scratching noise again. I ran to the other window. Another clown had set up a ladder and was climbing up the side of the house.

I opened the window so I could talk to the clown. "What's going on here?" I asked. "What are you doing?"

The clown smiled and pointed over my shoulder. I whirled around. There was another clown standing behind me.

"What are you doing here?" I yelled. "How'd you get in? Get out!"

The clown smiled, picked up my five-pound dumb bells, and began to juggle them.

"Stop that!" I cried. "You'll drop them and scratch the floors! Go away!"

The floor creaked behind me. I turned around. The other two clowns were climbing in the window.

One of them took out a horn and honked it. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" it shrilled. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE..."

My eyes popped open. I was lying in bed, and the smoke alarm was squealing.

So it had all been a dream. Nothing but a horrible, horrible dream.

Or was it?

I hear a scratching at the win

Two practical questions

1. I recently sent out a business-related email with an attachment, basically hitting up an acquaintance for a job. He didn't respond. Someone here suggested that his system might have deleted my email, mistaking it for spam because of the attachment. So I'm thinking I should email again to see if he received it. However, I don't want to pester him if he did get it and is contemplating it quietly.

How long does one usually wait for a response before e-mailing again to say, "Did you get my first email?" This is not a writing submission, but about teaching writing.

2. Does anyone know why LJ is saying I'm posting in the afternoon when it's actually morning? I checked my computer time, and it's correct. Could I still be in the dream?

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Or am I a clown who dreamed she was a writer?

Two practical questions

1. I recently sent out a business-related email with an attachment, basically hitting up an acquaintance for a job. He didn't respond. Someone here suggested that his system might have deleted my email, mistaking it for spam because of the attachment. So I'm thinking I should email again to see if he received it. However, I don't want to pester him if he did get it and is contemplating it quietly.

How long does one usually wait for a response before e-mailing again to say, "Did you get my first email?" This is not a writing submission, but about teaching writing.

2. Does anyone know why LJ is saying I'm posting in the afternoon when it's actually morning? I checked my computer time, and it's correct. Could I still be in the dream?

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Or am I a clown who dreamed she was a writer?