Life in our Shoes

We have piles and piles of boxes currently in our garage, filled with stuff we determined we could live without until the move. One side of the garage is stuff to be moved, the other side is stuff to be trashed. Now that I have set up that little mental picture for you, let’s all laugh at me. I did.

I went into the garage to put a box on top of the to be moved pile. Then I heard something. It sounded like a wild animal hissing. My heart stopped, and my eyes started darting all around to find the evil critter making this horrendous noise at me. I saw nothing, so I ran back in the house. Then I decided I had to go back out, because maybe, just maybe one of my cats got out there and was stuck and scared. I started kicking at boxes and making a lot of noise so said creature would show itself it’s rabid self (I live dangerously).

That’s when I heard it again. Coming from inside a box. One that is taped shut? How in the world did something get in there? Ah yes…wait for it….I PUT IT THERE! It was the toy box. With a remote control car. One that is apparently not turned off because every time it gets bumped, the wheels spin and make a noise that sounds like, well, like wheels spinning. Except when you aren’t expecting it, it sounds like a rabid creature. Cross my heart.

The worst part about the whole ordeal, after I finally figured out what it was, I just left it be. I didn’t bother opening the box, finding the toy and shutting it off. That was entirely too much effort. So it’s only fair that when I went back in the garage today and heard the noise again, I freaked out. I think I’m paranoid. Or a chicken.

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