I celebrate the completion of even the most mundane task, especially when I manage to accomplish something in the most efficient, most logical manner. However, this orderly approach is rare.
I am prone to episodes of extreme disorganization: my shoes go on before my pants, etc.
But that was about to change.
Beaming with pride, I launched into some organized housework the other day. I had remembered to dust before tackling the floor! But…
The mental scritch scritch scritch of dramatic Twilight Zone music froze me to a halt.
On a little shelf just above eye level sat the voodoo chicken foot that usually resides in the china cabinet in my office, where everyone’s is kept.
Well, this particular chicken foot was a gift to my husband from our daughter. She had been to New Orleans and bought the talisman from the House of Voodoo. In the Fountain family gifts like this are signs of deep enduring love.
How did this gruesome mummified foot end up on the on a shelf in the dining room?
I didn’t recall putting it the there. But sometimes I can’t remember what I did five minutes ago.
Dust cloth in hand, I stared at the desiccated body part while my imagination ran wild.
The black and gold spray painted talons tap,tap,tapped on the China cabinet glass until the door creaked open. The foot dragged itself across the tile floor, then clawed its way up the wall, collapsing to rest on the dusty oak shelf where it lay in wait for my unsuspecting dust cloth.
No actual dusting occurred that day.
The floor did get vacuumed and mopped.
The foot is still there gathering new dust.
I don’t really want to touch it, even to put it away. Even though I’m relatively sure I placed it there to begin with.
I just don’t remember.