|Anabel and I love the "too cute" laundry room!|
|The kids adore cooking in our new kitchen.|
|Our view over the River Clyde|
While the kids explored our cozy three bedroom apartment, Greg and I enjoyed a whisky (grabbed at the co-op) while our British Hunters' Chicken (they also had ready to cook items) roasted in the cooker. Anabel said the blessing as we sat around the table of our first meal in Scotland around 9 PM.
We retired around eleven, opening our windows to the sea breeze. I fell fast asleep, but woke around 1 AM. I tossed and turned for a while, and then, decided to go to the WC (short for water closet which is the British term for toilet.) As I opened our bedroom door, another door slammed shut. I froze. Was that an apparition standing in front of my children's door? Had I really traveled all this way to have my kids attacked from the hereafter? I swear I stood there believing in ghosts and cussing every writer of all the ghost stories I had ever read. My mind was actually envisioning the wispy specter from my favorite ghost movie, The Uninvited. Why, oh why, had I watched that over and over with my niece and nephew? What is entertaining at 8 PM is down right scary at one in the morning. Somehow, I found a light, which revealed.... nothing in the passageway. I crept to the bathroom, splashed my face and willed myself to be rational. The only solution I could come up with to combat my imagination was a giant bowlful of chocolate Krispies. It was the perfect antedote for wakeful imaginations; it put them where they belonged: in my nightmares.
Aren't imaginations fun until they take control? When Emma served me Earl Grey and toast in bed this morning, all the night terrors faded to a silly memory... unless they return tonight.