I guess I’m officially back.
I suppose the super snails didn’t want me to reveal their evil plot to take over the world and since I posted their diabolical plan in cyberspace they’ve decided to quietly disappear. Secreting a glowing slime trail behind them, they’re headed west.
I logged on this morning. Cake. Bingo. I exist again, no error message. Except there are lingering defects. My favorite site addys are wiped out. And some of my quick click icons are MIA. Hmmm. Maybe the snails don’t know their own power and one sneezed or something. Fortunately for me, I have been washing my hands a lot over the past two days ever since I discovered the “problem” aka conspiracy.
Another area of interest I’ve discovered is that I completely exist on someone else’s station – even my favorites are intact. So they seem to have targeted my computer specifically. Shudder.
While I was in my dark room this morning something hit me. Not literally, not snail poo dripping from the ceiling.
What dawned on me was the picture.
I left early Friday. A tech was scheduled to “clean” my film processor. A normal enough occurrence.
Arriving Monday morning, I discovered a test film resting on top of the machine. An arm. “Odd,” I thought, “the tech’s never taken a picture of his arm before.” And then I pondered how he managed to do it and forgot about the film.
This morning, electrified by the drama of the last few days, I picked it up and looked at it for the first time. Strangely, the arm appears to be alien. The type you see in movies with the fat rounded-end fingers and the thin wrist. If that wasn’t creepy enough – there were NO bones. If he took an actual x-ray – there would have been bones. Even creepier – fine arm hairs, standing at attention -- cover the appendage.
My final take on this whole thing…the electric snails arrived sometime Thursday, probably killed the poor processor guy and somehow the electric flash of the murder in the dark room took an image of his lifeless arm. Don’t know how the snails managed to get the film into the processor and get rid of his tools – but I am not going to be fooled into complacency. I’ll be calling the authorities as soon as I get this posted. Tomorrow, I anticipate that the office will be fumigated and all will be well.
Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.