For Valentine’s Day, Corey filled our bedroom with balloons. Almost two months later and our house is still full of them. This is truly the gift that keeps on giving.
It’s almost as if they’re holding some kind of dance-off. A balloon-off, if you will.
If so, this one is clearly cheating.
And this one has some kind of death wish.
This one was disqualified for being caught underneath the kitchen table. It eventually freed itself, and now cowers in the corner, full of shame and self loathing.
One by one they are slowly learning to fly at a lower altitude. They drift through the house, pausing at items of interest. Sometimes they are down right creepy.
Corey and I were watching TV the other day, and a red balloon floated into the livingroom, stopping suddenly when we turned to look at it. We returned our attention to the show. A few minutes later I looked around.
Where is the red balloon?, I asked.
Don’t move, Corey whispered. Look up, slowly. The damn thing was hovering a few inches above my head.
What do you want, Red Balloon!?!?
I may have foiled the Red Balloon’s evil plans, but it’s sister, Pink Balloon, got even the next day, when it popped out of the closet door and scared the s%*# out of me.
Yes, balloons can cackle evily. Who knew?
PS, has the word “balloon” lost all meaning to anyone else yet?