Last night, at my urging to watch a zombie movie, Matt picked out Zombie Honeymoon, which we thought would be a cheesy B-movie.
Turns out it was just creepy and gory enough to have me whimpering with fear and disgust with my head in Matt’s lap covering my eyes with a blanket at the end. The ongoing refrain for the rest of the night was to the effect of, “Man, that movie was GROSS.”
After the movie was over I was too tired to exist any longer so I headed to bed, and Matt decided to come with.
I should mention now that, through totally neglecting to check out our oil tank gauge recently, we’re stuck rationing our heat in the house until tomorrow. It’s expensive enough to fill a tank but if you have to make an emergency weekend call, the price dramatically increases, and we didn’t realize we were nearly empty until Saturday morning. Since then it’s been a delicate balance of crank the heat up, turn the furnace off completely, find an extra blanket, and look forward to Monday (says the girl in two sweaters and knee-high socks). It’s pretty frigid in here, though it’s nothing that can’t be cured with some extra sweaters and body heat.
So before Matt climbs into bed, the cat climbs up his shoulder and onto my wardrobe, then into the top shelf of the closet. He seems to think it’s a hiding spot up there, like we can’t see him if he’s elevated past eye level.
Matt shuts off the light and gets under the covers, and as he’s settling in I automatically reach for his hand. Visions of zombies dancing in my head I realize the hand I’m holding is as cold as that of a corpse, and without even thinking I let out a bloodcurdling scream, thus equally scaring the daylights out of Matt, who couldn’t figure out why I would intentionally grab his hand and then scream.
Once my heart rate returned to normal (with a bit more whimpering and hiding my head under the covers) I was relaxed enough to try to sleep.
Until the cat, invisible in the dark, launched himself off the wardrobe and onto my body.
I don’t want to watch zombie movies anymore.