So yesterday I'm sitting at the computer, scouring the internet for ways to refashion clothes, because that's what I'm about right now. Steve is at the grocery store, and its dark out, but I'm fine. Not scared. I'm used to this routine.
Then, out of nowhere, this earsplitting shrieky-grindy noise--like a vacuum cleaner with a grudge--starts screaming from the kitchen. Throwing my chair back from the computer, I jump up into the air and just stand, petrified, staring at the kitchen. The blender is on.
BY ITSELF. OF ITS OWN DESIRE. THE BLENDER TURNED ON.
It doesn't stop, either, and my brain isn't really functioning, I am just freaking out in total panic mode with so much adrenaline running through me that I can barely move. So how to I handle this?
I scream back at it.
...and that doesn't work. So then I run into the kitchen, almost crying, and sort of bat at the thing so I can reach past it to pull the plug out (if it had kept going I would have probably passed out) and all I'm thinking is
IT'S SET ON LIQUIFY. IT WANTS TO LIQUIFY ME. ITS A GHOST THAT WANTS TO LIQUIFY ME.
Once its unplugged I run out into the hall, fumbling for my phone on the way, and shut the door firmly behind me. I dial Steve's number. No answer. I dial about ten more times, and send two text messages. No answer.
For a second I'm wondering if something happened to him, and turning on the blender is his way of sending me a message (because the blender is Steve's thing, not mine), but then I call again and finally he answers and I'm all almost crying and freaking out and refusing to go back in the apartment.
Finally he calms me down enough to go back in (luckily no other appliances have turned on) and he tells me he'll be home soon, and once I've situated myself in front of Jeopardy with some frozen cookie dough and a spoon we decide its safe to hang up.
I'm still not so keen on that blender. Okay?
