Wed, 19 Jul 2006

Scaring my Father Half to Death

I remember, to this day, when I scared my father half to death. I used to stay in the bath until the water got cold, and sometimes warm it up again. Of course, there were many floaty things and many poury things with which to amuse myself. Beyond that, I used to enjoy sensory deprivation. I'd fill the tub really deep, get the water to body temperature, and lie down in the tub with my ears under the water. If I lay there still enough the only sounds I could hear were those carried through the plumbing into the tub.

The astute reader may be way ahead of me here.

One day I was doing this, holding my breath and lying face down. My father had apparently been calling me from downstairs and of course I couldn't hear him. He hears nothing, rushes upstairs, flings open the door only to see me lying motionless face-down in the tub. He grabs my arm with one hand and pulls me out of the tub. I, knowing nothing of parently concerns about children drowning in the bathtub, shouted at him "What? What??" because of course I was completely confused. There I was, in my own private space, thinking deep thoughts, only to nearly have my arm ripped out of its socket by a frantic father for no reason apparent to me.

That was the day I scared my father half to death.

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