I come home from work and I figure I'll start som laundry and then go to Monday evening knitting--one of the amazing things about Bloomington is that I can knit with friends of mine three nights in a row, plus Thursday, plus at least four other meetups I don't go to--after I check a few things on the Innernet.
Then somehow I end up at r/nosleep and start reading stories. Even though I've just got over being stay-up-until-dawn spooked by the "Abandoned by Disney" series of creepypasta for a week. Because I'm somewhere between a masochist and an idiot. And they're not that bad. The premise is that you're supposed to treat the stories as if they're actually real reports of happenings and they're supposed to be within the realm of suspension of disbelief, as well as meatier and better-written than AND THEN A SKLELTON POPPED OUT. Overall, they're not that scary. They're interesting in a way that I might write another post about when I'm not on a tablet, but the events are too far out in most of them for me to buy them, and everyone copies the popular ones, or at least most of them have common tropes. I can't believe that many people's lives have turned into ripoffs of "Invasion of the Bodysnatchers" at once. But the series I started because they're they're supposedly the scariest ones worked as well-written, good suspense stories.
And as the light from the window turns grey and then blue, and good suspense turns into eldritch cosmic horror, well, it gets a little creepier.
And about then:
Window: MWEEEROOOH WREEEEE HRRRR
Me: Olive, quiet.
Window: WWWWOWWWN WAIIIIREEE RRRROWWNN MWAAAHHRRR
Me: Olive! Quiet!
[The window is even angrier.]
Me:HEY! Shut up! Shut it!
I was starting to get up to turn the lights on anyway, so I look up to see what's going on. At this point it's worth mentioning that our house has a sort of shotgun layout with my room on the corner, and my front window is the only one that looks out on the street in front of the house. I have the futon I can't get rid of in front of that window, even though the window frame behind it is pretty deep. I look over and I don't see Olive behind the shade, but I sure can hear her. The roommates' kitten is perched on the corner of the back of the futon. From his posture, he looks like he's bugging her through the blind. Neither of us really like the kitten, because he eats all her food and steals all her toys and my yarn and uses her box and is always in my room harassing her and trying to slash my Achilles tendon from under the bed. I feel kind if bad for him since he's only about five months old and his people are never home, but he is a pain in the ass proportional to his size (and he's a Maine Coon mix, so it's huge).
So I grab him off the futon and chuck him out while he tries to see what work he can get done on gnawing through my wrist.
Window: NWEEE HWAAAHWOWWWR WAIII OWWWNN REEERRRR
Me: Goddamnit Olive, he's gone! Shut the fuck up! Shut up OLIVE
Olive [scuttles in, her ears fanned back and her eyes big] Dwee neep ahhh!
So there's that moment where your brain really doesn't know how to parse thing or react to it. Of course a second later I realized it must be my roommates' other cat, the little black one, and just about the same time she popped out of the window to yell at Olive because now there were too many damn cats in the room she's apparently just now decided belongs to her. I still don't know what she was yelling at. The window looks out on the front porch, but there wasn't anything out there when I checked. Maybe she was yelling at me because I was yelling at her.
So now there are two cats that think they belong in here, and I'm slightly creeped out by the thought of what's so exciting right outside my window at night.