What gives me the heebie jeebies in Paris?
|The long hallway lined with wooden doors in our basement|
Cue some scary music, something that you would hear while watching a psychological thriller like Psycho.
Zoom in on the tense face of a lone women. Her hands tremble while she fumbles with an ancient key. Finally, she manages to shakily unlock the heavy metal door. Creak...it slowly swings open on rusty hinges. The woman pauses to take a deep breath and then cautiously enters the dimly lit hallway. Her trepidation and fear are obvious. Wooden doorways, some of them marked with mysterious symbols line the walls. What secrets do they contain? Are they cells holding depraved criminals? And just when the woman's hand reaches for the lock on one of the doors and the music reaches its crescendo - Click - total darkness.
While I don't normally have such a vivid imagination, the above scene plays in my head for days before I can finally convince myself to make the trip to the netherworld that is our basement. Perhaps the most daunting aspect of the chore is that the lights are on timers that always seem to switch off at the most inopportune moment leaving me alone in the dark to wonder what's going to crawl across my feet or grab me from behind. It's a scary place!
But since we're traveling to Normandy today, I had to get our suitcases from the basement. Fortunately, Philippe was there to help me but next time I'll be on my own....
I'll be out of the basement and will have a regular post ready for you tomorrow. And just in case you're thinking that my fears are groundless, take a look at the size of the rats in this post!
|The door next to ours is always left ajar. What's inside?|