We don’t have a coat closet in our front hall. Instead we have a hat stand/coat rack, where our heavy winter coats and winter hats hang. I have a chicken hat. A fleece-lined, knitted wool cap with a beak and goofy goggly eyes with flaps that keep my ears warm. I was getting dinner ready last night when I thought I heard a quiet tapping at the front door. Our doorbell is on the fritz and doesn’t always ding, so I thought my partner was tapping quietly as she does when she forgets her key.
I walked past the coat rack on the way into the hall, checked the door. No one was there. I closed and locked it, then turned back to go into the kitchen, passing the coat rack as I do countless times a day. I looked over at it and saw this… which my brain decided to interpret as this. I’m quite sure that right at that moment, in Libya they paused mid-battle to ask each other “Who’s screaming?”
Now I KNOW I’m not the only one who has come close to wetting my pants because I saw an innocent pile of laundry that my brain insisted was a crouching madman about to pounce. Who else has been betrayed by their flight-or-fight lizard brain?