Attack of the Killer Carpet Monster

I had trouble sleeping again last night. After tossing and turning, shutting the light off, then on, then reading, then lying quietly with my eyes closed, I gave up and decided to get a glass of water.

I went down to the kitchen and flipped on the light.

An impossibly huge carpet monster fell off the wall.

What’s a carpet monster, you say? One of these little bastards, so dubbed in our home due to the fact that they blend perfectly with our carpet, so you could be walking within inches of one and never even know:

Ew ew ew ew EW EW EW.

It would’ve startled you, too, something furry flopping onto the floor then running straight at you. I screamed like an impossibly sissy girl and ran in a rough circle, trying to scare the thing the way it had scared me so it would run away and not touch my feet with its horrible, horrible legs.

It moved like lightning on crack. I was getting ready to propel myself ass-first up onto the counter when it zoomed past, waving at me with its million legs, and hid under the fridge. I was alternately paralyzed with horror and…well. You should know this about me: when I am overtired, like really, really sleep deprived, I get the giggles. The smallest, unfunniest thing will make me laugh until I cry and choke on my own saliva. It’s so sexy, you don’t even know.

So here I am, backed against the counter, and it occurs to me how silly I’m being, and my brain knows this but my body doesn’t give a shit what my brain has to say and I am completely unable to move. I’m stuck there, laughing and shrieking and finally C comes in to check whether I have completely lost my mind.

I manage to cross the room and perch on a bar stool, feet tucked up under me so the thing can’t get them.

C says, “I gotta see this thing.” And what does he do? He gets down on the floor in front of the fridge and tries to lure it out.

The whole time, I’m gigglescreaming uncontrollably and panicking that it’s going to get on him and he’s poking around under there with his bare hands and the whole scene was just not cool.

He never did find it. And I don’t think he believed me when I told him it was the size of a mouse.

To be fair, a house centipede isn’t dangerous. They’re supposedly helpful and eat other bugs or some shit. I don’t care. What I care about is that there’s an unholy creature with a billion legs made of pure hatred running around this house and IT’S ABLE TO CLIMB WALLS. Which means IT COULD FALL ON ME. And EAT MY BRAIN. Totally unacceptable.

(image source)

Insomnia, My Best Worst Friend

Couldn’t sleep last night. That won’t surprise many of you; I have sleeping…issues. Mostly I can’t get settled, can’t shut my brain off. The longer I lie there, not sleeping, the more resentful I become. It starts off a horrible cycle where I’m angry because I can’t sleep, and I can’t sleep because I’m so angry. I finally drifted off around 4:30. I had to be up at 5:30 for DayJob.

Why am I telling you this?

BECAUSE…as I stared off into the darkness, my mind wandered and BAM! fell right into an idea. An idea for a novel. Pieces fell together and suddenly I had a loose outline, a title, hell, even a cover all planned out.

I rolled over and told myself I’d revisit it today, to see if any of my half-asleep ramblings actually made sense. I even (and this is a cardinal sin: writers, look away) decided not to get up and write any of it down. I figured I might forget it, sure, but it was late and I was busy in the throes of a bitchy little funk.

Luckily, it stayed with me. And the more I think about it, the more I like it.

I’ve never had a story come together so easily before. I have whole little mind-movies climbing over each other to be written. And they make sense and they work.

This is easily the most excited I’ve been about a story, and I owe it all to that sleep-sucking rat-bastard. Silver linings, I guess.

(And no, I won’t tell you what it’s about)