Getting from place to place to me is constantly an experience calling for reflection. Seriously. I can't put one foot in front of the other, it seems, without doing what Neil Armstrong did on the moon, which is considering it in its historical context and framing it with the right words. It's with a great struggle right now that I'm even able to type this paragraph in under 10 minutes. It all has to be done step by step.
Here's what I'm considering: I've got it set before me, as everyone knows, a titanic battle, a battle of wits, perhaps to the death of one or both of us, with my hiatus, who has overgrown all bounds and now is the dominant force in our house. I say 'dominant force' and I mean it, but we shall see, because perhaps I will prove to have been the dominant force all along, depending on how it all works out.
At this point I haven't got what it would take to kill the thing by violent means. I have only my hands and feet -- my body -- as all the weapons have been confiscated and hidden. And in this I feel some regret, that over the years I didn't do what it would've taken for my body to be a lethal weapon, like they say in the movies. I suppose I could've learned karate or jiu-jitsu, in which case I would be able, with the skills of karate, to chop the thing to death. (Hah! Huuh! Kuh-rack!) Or with jiu-jitsu I could walk up to shake its hand, then flip it over my hip, then stand back in a menacing pose, a threatening look of scorn on my face, and watch it crawl scared out the North door. Evil cometh from the North, and to the North it must return!
But in the absence of the martial arts, those skills, and in the absence of good old fashioned American weaponry, I need to rely on my wits. My wits might get the job done, although I'm sure they're not as honed as they could be either. I'm a little soft. But if I ever get out of here alive I need to do something about that. Like check out the self-help books at the mall that say You've got the power in you, etc. Hmm, that's an idea. I think they do have books that say that, You've got the power in you. And if those books are true at all, then it stands to reason that I've got the power in me right now, even without reading them. Somehow I've known all along that I've got the power in me or I wouldn't know about the books, so why would I now need page after page of explaining what I've already got? We shall see!
I'm looking over at the big lug. He's a creature who exists in several rooms at once, being stretched out and amorphously crawling or inching out here and there, depending on where his consciousness decrees his particular parts should be. What I'm seeing just there in the corner seems to be in a state of slumber, getting his mental refreshment. But that doesn't mean that the part of him in the kitchen would necessarily be sleeping; in fact I think I just heard some gargling from the kitchen area and I know Grandma's in her room asleep.
My big idea is to ignore him into shrinking, then when he's shrunken to the point of being manageable, hope that I see the weapons -- my sacred swords among them -- so that I can hack what remains to little bits. I don't know what might happen after that. I might find a little tail and fling him in the road like a dead mouse.
The whole job of ignoring is starting ... right NOW ... then it will go step by step until the job is done ...
Wait a second. Someone should say something historic, like me. I need to say something like with the moon landing ... Let me work something up:
"I'm writing this today as a person with an unusual problem. I took a hiatus from many of my responsibilities. But somehow it appears to have become a living creature, who now is holding me captive, having taken over my life and house. My grandmother's life is also in danger. I am going to try my level best, relying not on weapons but my wits, to kill the monster. I may not live, but it is my intention, of course, which should go without saying, that I want to live and I want it to die. We shall see what happens. To God be the glory."
OK, I said that ... then crossed myself in a very ritualistic way, bowing to the three good directions, East, West, and South.