This happens every time. I think to myself, “Yes! I have a few days off! I’ll go away somewhere for some peace and quiet.”
And then I actually get “away somewhere” with my laptop, my flash drive and high hopes finally finishing my novel and there’s so much peace and quiet that it takes every fiber of my being not to go running back to the city.
I’m mainly concerned about mountain lions.
I have never seen, heard or otherwise encountered a mountain lion but I did read Where the Red Fern Grows at a rather young and impressionable age. (And if you’ve ever read Where the Red Fern Grows, you’ll understand.)
Growing up, I was convinced there were mountain lions in our basement (which might have something to do with my disdain for basement washer/dryer systems and laundry in general). Now, I’m convinced they’re everywhere.
A year ago, I decided to spend a week at my parents’ house on Hooper’s Island. I spent the majority of the time on the phone with TWD trying to convince him to join me. “But I thought you wanted to be alone,” he reminded me.
“I did,” I replied. “That was before I was actually alone. Now I don’t want to be alone.”
I almost drove back to Philadelphia the very next morning but I forced myself to stay put and made a few feeble attempts at finishing a short story. A day later, my father called to warn me of an approaching hurricane.
“Sorry to ruin your vacation,” he apologized, “but you’d better get out of there.”
It was the best news of my life: finally, an excuse to get back to Philadelphia! Back to civilization!
I’m still not really sure why I didn’t go stir crazy when I rented the studio up in New England this past August. Probably because of my yoga/coffee shop/library regimen. Also, the studio was quite small. It only took me about thirty seconds to ensure that it was mountain-lion free.
But this house is different. This house is too big. Worst of all, I arrived after dark and even though I asked one of my appointed technological experts (a dancer in The Lady Hoofers Youth Company) to teach me how to turn my Smartphone into a flashlight back at our show in December, she told me I didn’t have the necessary updates. So I had to search the premises—and deal with any and all mountain lions— in the dark.
I’m happy to report that the upstairs is secure.
But I’m not so sure about what might be lurking below.
Come to think of it, I could really use an extra blanket. But is it worth the risk?
Methinks not. I’d rather freeze than take my chances.
PS: In addition to mountain lions, I have a thing about birds. And no, watching the Alfred Hitchcock film of the same name did not help. I would feel much better about my own slightly irrational fears if you would comment below with your own. Thank you.