You know how the other day I mentioned that I felt like I was in an animated Disney Cartoon due to all the 'Creepy Crawlies' about? Well, last night felt like I was starring in my own Disney Horror/ Slasher Flick. Seriously.
The husband was out playing superstar DJ with his London mate at a beach bar down the road. The monsters were holed up in bed, having worn themselves out from watching "Finding Nemo" on my laptop with practically inaudible sound given that Dumpie had yesterday run off with the remote for my speakers (he was pretending it was a 'mobile phone') and it's not been seen since.
I went to brush my teeth and ran straight into a too large to be ignored creature sitting on the tap and staring (I swear) straight at me - as if daring me to turn on the water.
I didn't. I shuttled right out of there and carried out my evening ablutions at the kitchen sink.
Later, after tossing and turning for nearly two hours, I had just drifted off into some semblance of slumber, and lo and behold I felt something BIG drop onto my left leg. I jerked myself up into sitting position and noted with horror that something the size of a thumb, but florescent green in colour, was calmly perched on my sweaty limbs, and calmly blinking at me. I freaked.
The lights went on and I spent the next five minutes trying to get it off my bed. It must have had suction cups on its legs for it would not budge. Finally I trapped it under a huge plastic cup and left it on the floor to deal with later. (Of course 'later' turned out to be this morning when unbeknownst to Eggie, it lay still trapped in there and was the cause for a shout of alarm when Eggs saw what was inside and threw it across the room.)
As if the night couldn't get any worse, around 2:30am the husband sauntered home, as you can imagine, a little worse for wear.
I was awoken by the sound of someone trying to quietly pry my bedroom window open, and assumed the worst. I ran to the door and whispered, "Is that you?" I heard no answer. The person on the other side of the door was simply trying to work the door open from the outside.
(I must interject here and explain that I was neither being a daft cow nor a 'Fraidy Cat'. Several weeks ago our landlady had warned us that at the end of season bad youths often roamed Westerners homes and broke in during the middle of the night when people were inside. I had filed it at the time under the ever growing list in my head of "Things to be Worried About". This list being located in the outer frontal lobe where it can readily be accessed 24/7, it is no wonder that my brain sought to immediately release adrenalin and alarm bells.)
So you see, I had a good few moments of fear and paranoia, made all the worse by my earlier freak out with the giant 'creatures' in my home AND the fact that I was sleeping topless at the time and don't all scary slasher flicks star girls who are semi-naked?
I had good reason to be fearful.
As it turned out, the reason the husband was impersonating a burglar was because one of the monsters must have unwittingly drawn the dead bolt across the door, rendering his keys useless. As luck would have it I'd never used this dead bolt and subsequently didn't have the faintest idea how to unlock it.
What followed for the next several minutes was:
a) furiously whispered veiled threats of impending divorce (me)
b) slurred instructions which made no sense (husband)
c) a heated exchange through the window between a naked from the waist up wife and a sweaty, knackered 'DJ', wherein the idea that the aforementioned 'DJ' kip outside on the porch was met with the attempted breaking in of our wooden door.
It wasn't pretty.
Finally I tried a different latch and the door swung open. I fell back into my hot, sweaty bed (which by this time contained two underpant clad monsters clutching teddy bears) and moments later had to sit through the husbands feeble attempts to climb into an already oversubscribed bed.
This morning, after a rotten sleep, I was none too surprised to see that the bathroom creature is still alive and well and holding court over the bathroom sink. Well of course she is. I bet she doesn't have a 'Mr. Freaky Bug' to wake her up and terrorise her in the middle of the night.