Imagine you’re me. You’ve just spent a long, laughter-filled day with two girlfriends, drinking several glasses of wine, enjoying some homemade eggnog and baking more than 50 dozen cookies.
Imagine trudging to your guest bed, eagerly awaiting the moment when you can lie down, pull up the covers, roll over, and crash to sleep.
You pull back the covers…and you see…THIS:
GAAAAHHHHH!
For a split second, when I saw these two nights ago, I thought “I can’t sleep here. I can’t.” My mind suddenly created a delightfully cinematic, underscored moment where I wrestled with inner demons in wide-eyed, fearful introspection, only to be saved by my long-lost best friend/secret crush who was ALSO staying at the house and sleeping on the couch across from me, who valiantly offered to sleep on the bed in my place…which would lead to, well, you know…
Then, I shook myself and started laughing.
In case you haven’t guessed it, I’m not a fan of gnomes. I’m aware they have an interesting history in literature, but that doesn’t change that they are creepy little bastards. I’d cheerfully love to round up every gnome in every front yard and send them to wherever creepy little gnomes go to die. That Travelocity gnome marketing campaign? It lost them a customer; I will never go back.
This little episode got me thinking about quirks, neurosis and phobias. I wouldn’t say I’m afraid of gnomes, because after all, I did buck up and sleep on these sheets. But I have taken the time to write about them, so I think this might be more than a quirk. Is there a difference?
Regardless, now you know where I stand on the subject of gnome-dom. Your life is richer now. You’re welcome.
PS: Let’s pause for a moment and think of what had to happen to make this moment occur. First, someone had to have the idea to make gnome flannel sheets. Then, someone had to produce them. Then, someone else had to sell them. Someone had to BUY them, and then someone had to decide to PUT THEM ON THE BED. This is a crazy, weirdo word we live in.
I LOVE gnomes. LOVE them.
Good thing it’s not a phobia, Jaz, or we’d have to break up. 🙂
I think they’re sweet and they protect me from the heebee jeebees.
You say “protect from”, I say “cause.” 🙂