Why I Don't Watch Scary Movies

I've always been susceptible to the twisted workings of my own imagination. Although, like most kids, I liked reading scary books like Goosebumps, or Things That Go Bump in the Night, I did like to have the lights on going to my room in the basement afterwords. I even remember one time watching a docu-drama about crocodiles in my parents' room and being afraid to get off the bed when it was over. Now, I knew that crocodiles were not indigenous to master suites in Utah suburbs, but in my own defense, my parents did have a water bed. It was disconcerting. So, I have since avoided, for the most part, scary movies.

But I have also been disturbed by television shows, which given the gruesome and disturbing envelope-pushing that shows like CSI have encouraged, isn't surprising. This is why after I feed G in the middle of the night, get a drink downstairs, and go into my bathroom to use the facilities, I find myself thinking how freaky it would be if someone was waiting in the little room where the toilet is--to get me. Needless to say, I'm a little hesitant to open the door. Look how creepy it is, someone could lurk in there quite easily. Okay, access isn't really that easy, but it's much worse when it's pitch black, that just doesn't photograph well, so use your imagination. . . . Actually don't, since that what gives me problems. Take my word for it.

Anyway, that wasn't the point of this post. The point is, after strings of disturbing dreams lately involving running away from kidnappers, human sacrifice, and serial killers, I was quite disturbed the other day when I was taking a shower (yes, a scary place for me to begin with) and although my husband had already gone to work, the bathroom door started to open. Now, the thing about our bathroom door is that if you leave it alone, it will close on it's own, but never open. That fact aside, I was willing to accept my own explanation of a freak in-house wind, but then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Unlike many of my peripheral phantoms, this one kept moving. And it wasn't until it lept up on the ledge of the bathtub revealing itself as Guido, that my heart returned to its normal rhythm. Totally freaked me out. And he's done it several times since. Each time I have to tell myself and cross my fingers that it really is Guido. So far, he's been the only unannounced visitor, knock on wood.

*All bathroom pictures were taken by a fully-clothed photographer.