Welcome to Musing Interruptus. Today, my thoughts take me inside, to a place where things go bump in the night. And no… this is not an episode on sex… no bumping uglies here… What I mean are the sounds that can put you over the edge. Like that famous episode where Donald Duck needs to get some sleep, yet he finds his pre-sleep peace interrupted by a dripping faucet, a noisy clock, and well, you get the picture. Thank you for clicking, thank you for listening. Today: I think it’s coming from inside the house.
The wooden floors creak as I walk towards the kitchen. Bright light normally bounces off the walls, but now it is night. Darkness embraces every corner. I stub my toe on the leg of a kitchen stool with such force that the stool flies across the floor,  the sound reverberates and shatters whatever peace I had inside. I can feel my chest pound, for a moment, surprised that any noise existed in the dark, or furniture, for that matter. I don’t remember leaving that stool there. Then I reassure myself, that is a great alarm for intruders. I can hear my dog’s little nails pitter-patter on the floor, making her way to my side, investigating the commotion. She does not bump into anything.
I hear a cough coming from next door. I shutter. Could the wind carry the virus to my door, maybe through the window. I laugh at my thoughts and continue my expedition. A midnight snack. I must not wake anybody, especially not the monster under my bed! It took me hours to get him or her to sleep. (they have not shared their pronouns with me)  What a ruckus, wanting to play music at all hours, breaking out the fizzy drinks and funny cigarettes. I read to the monster, my monster. From atop my cozy bed, I read until I could see the monster’s head tilt to the side, as if dead. I read a little more, just to be sure. I was about to cozy up to my monster under the bed, but I would risk waking him or her, and the ordeal would have to start all over again.
Back to the kitchen… I was there standing in the middle of the dark kitchen, thinking to myself what a propper midnight snack looks like. Is it a cup of tea with a hint of mint? No, I mustn’t, the teapot will whistle, calling the monster to work!  Maybe it’s a more elaborate sandwich, with cold cuts and cheese. A pickle. That would be ideal. However, the pop from twisting the jar open would surely wake my monster. The cookie bag will crackle and chips will crunch! What a conundrum I have before me! I start pacing back and forth, back and forth. I feel the gaps between each plank of wood on the floor. My dog just stares. I can only see her funny little eyes. I hear crickets chirping outside. What a symphony. How can my monster sleep through this! I pace, back and forth. I feel a knot in my stomach. I’m not hungry. But something will undo the knot, just you wait and see. It will be a perfect midnight snack for me.
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