She finally lured me out with a mixture of threats and promises. I've been cowering under the bed since Friday evening. I'm not proud. It was frightening. And there was no warning. And I'm just a small creature. Easily startled apparently.
And no sympathy of course. I'm not saying that Tom Waits is a bad person. He's cool. I'm cool with him. It's just that the sound of him unexpectedly torturing "Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho. It's off to work we go" on Radio 4 did make me burst into tears and convince me that an army of rabid weasels was heading this way to scoop my insides out with tea spoons and use my head as a football.
She says I'm being daft. But, hah! What about that Kate Bush song - at this point I should probably check the title but I'm still too traumatised and you know the one I mean - one about sonic bombs, sounds that can kill. I was definately the victim of an audio maiming on Friday evening.
Thankfully a follow-up mugging (Pete Docherty sings "Chim Chimney") was only alluded to. I was in my bunker under the bed, prodding anything that came near with a cake fork, and blocking my ears with dust bunnies.
So lots of catching up to do. Heigh ho, heigh ho ...