Wanna Buy a Knife?
Have you ever seen the movie 28 Days Later? It's a sci-fi/horror flick where a disease called rage ravishes Britain and the remaining survivers are cut off from the rest of the world to fend for themselves. You can tell immediately when someone has rage because they start to puke blood and their eyes turn red. They also run around in stop-gap motion with their arms flailing, trying to tear apart anyone who is not yet infected. T'was a silly movie.
It may have been a silly movie, but there are times when I think that I too am infected with rage. I can be quite frightening when I've had a long day, or I didn't get a good night's sleep. Just ask my husband, or my sofa-peeing dog. Who needs a horror movie when you already live with the infected?
This brings me to my point (sigh of relief from all). My neighbor called me a few days ago. She's a nice lady, just retired last summer, etc...and she has our phone number in case of emergency; like when our cats sneak out and get marooned on her shed, or when the sofa-peeing dog gets loose and runs down the street chasing squirrels. So she called, but it wasn't an emergency. She wanted to know how I got my zinnias to grow so tall, where I got the drapes for the back-porch, and if her friend could call me to sell me some knives. What? Knives? Uhh...(a twinge of rage is rising in my blood...I hold back, neighbor lady) sure your friend can call, no problem. We hang up. I forget about it, and the knives...
Well, last Sunday morning, my rage was showing. The baby had been up during the night, I was having insomnia, and we, I mean I, had to rush around and get ready to go to a birthday party. Ed decided to sleep in and let me take care of the baby and then get up and plop himself down in front of a movie (thanks, luv). It was one of those days, and I'm sure you know what I mean, when you feel sooo awful from lack of sleep, that you could just melt down into a puddle of sobbing exhaustion, but you do the dishes instead because you don't want your in-laws, who are coming to pick you up, to find out what a freakin' slob you really are.
Around 9 AM, the phone rang. We ignored it, because we don't know anyone who calls at 9 AM on Sunday, so we figured they could leave a message. About 20 minutes later, it rang again, and I picked it up. It was the knife lady...at 9 AM on Sunday morning...the second time she had called in 20 minutes...on Sunday morning...my eyes turned red and I think I started puking blood...it's kind of a blur now. Needless to say, she won't make the mistake of calling here again. I'm not sure what I said, but I have this feeling like I did something bad...like a werewolf must feel the morning after the full moon...
I know I have a temper...it's the kind that rises fast and fades away almost as fast...but a stranger calling to sell me something at 9AM on a Sunday morning? And ignoring the fact that we didn't answer the first time, and calling again??? Was I wrong to be so pissed? I wish I could be more secure in my rage. You know, learn to love the beast inside...
posted by ErinMary @ 8:02 AM
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