Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Monday, December 1, 2014

Catching Claustrophobedience

Mom and I were visiting at my Auntie's house.
An innocent enough activity.
And from it, I got claustrophobia.
Maybe I should explain . . .
Mom and Auntie were in the kitchen chatting over cups of tea and home baked goodies.
My cousin and I had already done the rounds of the dessert tray.
Several times.
And had retired upstairs to more important matters.
Play.
One of the bedrooms upstairs had no furniture in it.
Or at least, I can't remember any.
But it did hold a large carpet.
Rolled into a neat bundle.
It looked like a hot dog.
Let's face it. In my world, everything resembled food.
Moving on . . .
Suddenly, I got a marvellous idea.
“Let's play 'Hot Dog'!” I told my cousin.
“Okay,” she said enthusiastically, as though she knew exactly what I was talking about.
Which she didn't.
I unrolled the carpet and lay down at the edge.
“Okay. Now roll me up,” I commanded.
She did.
Cool!
Fun!
Neat!
Wait . . . I can't breathe!!!
I began to scream.
Okay, I could probably still breathe.
The ability to scream would indicate this.
My cousin, understandably concerned, stared at me.
Or at the rug that contained me.
I struggled mightily (I should probably point out that it didn't occur to me to simply - unroll) and finally, managed to extricate myself.
I headed for the nearest safe place.
My Mom.
I burst into the kitchen, every white-blonde hair standing on end and eyes like saucers.
“Mom! I nearly died!!!”
Okay, so melodrama and me were close, personal friends.
Mom set down her teacup and looked at me. “What?”
“I nearly died! I couldn't breathe!”
Mom frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“We were playing 'Hot Dog',” I told her.
She stared at me. “Hot Dog?”
“Yeah with the carpet. And I was the hot dog. And I rolled up . . .”
Suddenly, Mom understood. “Oh.” She gave me a stern look. “Diane, don't do that again!”
I admit that I often disobeyed my Mom.
Often quite deliberately.
But this time, I listened.
I like to think it was because I discovered the joy of obedience.
But, actually, I think it's because I discovered claustrophobia.
Obedience would have been more fun.

12 comments:

  1. You must have been channeling your inner Cleopatra, right? I wonder if she could breathe. Well, obviously, yes....

    ReplyDelete
  2. I've never been rolled up in a carpet but after hearing about your experience.....it's just as well.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yeah. Believe me when I tell you you're not missing anything. :)

      Delete
  3. Oh my. Even reading this I had to breathe deeply several times. It felt just like when I was a kid watching Jacques Cousteau in his latest underwater exploration, except then I would alternate deep breathing with holding my breath. Water! Brrr! And now - Carpet! Brrr!

    I'm thinking obedience would have been more fun, too :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Oh how cute this story was. What a lesson in obedience and claustrophobia. I have claustrophobia due to my brother putting me inside a sleeping bag and then sitting on me.
    Oh, the trauma of childhood.
    Blessings!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yikes! Phobia-by-brother. It happens a lot.

      Delete
  5. I know the feeling! I had a minor panic attack when the zipper jammed on my parka and I couldn't get it off. My hubby ripped it open right down the front. I can't sleep in a sleeping bag either.

    ReplyDelete
  6. I'm definitely claustrophobic. I was getting flustered just reading about it. I could and am actually going to jump out of an airplane but I wouldn't go down in a cave to save my life!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm with you! When I read or hear about someone locked in a small space, I start breathing deeper. Gah! I'm doing it now . . .

      Delete

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