First and most importantly, it is Veterans' Day in the United States so I would like to wish a massive, heartfelt "thank you" to all the veterans of the armed forces out there, particularly those near and dear to my heart: my Uncle Artis, my father-in-law, Daddy Bill (my BFF's dad), my friend Rick and though they're not still around to read my blog, my dad, Alan's grandfather, Uncle Payton and Commander Nagle.

Second, Heather won my blog contest - over in one comment! She wins a $50 Amazon gift certificate mostly because she's in Canada; it takes a long time for things, even cards, to reach her. Also a shout-out to Alan's friend Glenn Kelly, who got the salmon farmer reference to Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull. I didn't know that myself but Alan told me.

Thirdly - THE BLACK HORROR.

A portion of my morning routine goes like this: wander to kitchen for bottle of water and allergy pill, wander back to the bathroom, sit down & take off spectacles to apply makeup using magnified mirror. Put spectacles back on to brush teeth, remove spectacles to insert contact lenses. This is the result of years of trial-and-error; experience has taught me that if I dress for the day before I brush my teeth, I'll dribble toothpaste all over myself and have to change, that if I put in my contacts before applying makeup, I'll smear foundation into my eye or poke myself in the sclera with my mascara wand, and have to clean and soothe an irritated, leaking eye which I must first pry open to remove a sliver of plastic.

This morning at 7:07AM, the calm of the Bowman household was rent by a horrific shriek, like that of a banshee with an ingrown toenail. Alan leapt up from his desk and ran across the hall to see what was wrong. He found me on my knees in the middle of the bed, having leapt from a seated position in the bathroom a full 8'2" away in a single bound. Why, why am I not an Olympic long-jump gold medalist??? (Oh, yeah, 'cause the record is something like 7 and a half metres...)

I was in the makeup-application portion of my routine when a black THING ran out from behind the shower curtain straight toward me! I screamed and jumped for the safety of my bed. Because I didn't have my glasses on, I didn't get a good look at this scuttling whatever-it-was.

Alan asked me if it was a bug, which I suppose it might have been because I'm so very, extremely nearsighted but it seemed fuzzy to me and quite large. While I remained on the bed, Alan bravely entered the bathroom!

He didn't find any sort of intruder or critter but I was still frightened so he got a flashlight and investigated further. He reported that nothing was in the shower stall, under the cabinets or indeed anywhere. I was not comforted. I had seen some sort of unknown black thing. If I'd known what it was, I wouldn't have been upset. A bug could be smushed with a shoe and even if it was a mouse I wouldn't have been afraid. Mice are just things that occasionally happen in the Georgia 'burbs; I don't like them and I set traps, but they don't frighten me. Poor vision aside, however, this was a black thing. Field mice are this greyish-brown...uh, mouse color.

Alan: Can you put on your makeup in the other bathroom?
Helly: I suppose I could...but my hair stuff and my toothbrush and everything else is still in there.
Alan: I can get your stuff for you. [as I hesitate, leaning first toward the bathroom and then back toward the safety of the bed] What do you want me to do for you, sweetheart?
Helly: Bring me...the SHOTGUN!
Alan: I am not bringing you the shotgun. I know how this will end. I've heard stories from your parents.
Helly: Well, I guess I'll go back in there, then. But if I scream and fall over and die, from fright or from poisoning or killed by something, it's your fault for not bringing me the shotgun.
Alan: I'll accept responsibility. Truly, I think you're brave enough to endure it.

I retrieved my makeup bag from the bed and a bug crawled out of it! EEEEEUW! I summoned Alan to grab and flush it, but it ran under the bed! AAAAAAGH! Now neither the bedroom nor the bathroom were safe! I don't think the bug was what I saw earlier because the scuttling thing was black (bug was brown) and I had that impression of fuzziness...

I continued my morning routine with great trepadation on a state of high alert. Then the time came for the next step in my routine and I was in a quandary. Finally I went into the hall and said to Alan, "I have to use the bathroom. I'm closing the bedroom door, though, because if the black horror runs at me again and the bathroom door is closed, that sucker's coming off its hinges."

Alan chuckled, "That's fine, sweetheart."

A couple minutes later, I emerged.

Alan: All quiet on the bathroom front?
Helly: No sign of the black horror. It's probably waiting for me to leave before it devours you, because it heard us before and knows you won't use the shotgun but I will.
Alan: Why, thank you, sweetheart. I feel so much better now with my back to the room and my headphones on.
Helly: Well, you can't blame me. I wanted to slaughter it half an hour ago.
Alan: It was probably just that waterbug you saw.
Helly: Probably. Like in the first bit of a movie, it's probably just the wind. UNTIL THE BLACK HORROR DEVOURS THEM!

Alan is still alive, or was half an hour ago because I e-mailed him to ask about any monster sightings. He reports, "No sign. Finnovar probably ate him for lunch."

And yet, he refuses to check our cat's breath to see if it smells like The Black Horror, seemingly blind to the importance of this. How will I sleep otherwise? The Black Horror might crawl up on me and touch me while I'm sleeping. I demand that my cat be checked for Black Horror halitosis!

If I never blog again, you'll know it got me. And wouldn't Black Horror Halitosis be a great name for a punk band?