Speaking of whipping wildly around...

I don't talk much about the creepy parts of being back from a long year in Iraq. For the most part, it isn't bad. I'm MILES closer to normal than I was when I initially got back. I credit part of that to our unit having moved to a place I call "Camp Happy" a couple months before we left Iraq. Coming straight from our first location to the US wouldn't have been healthy.

But for the most part, I don't do a lot of jumping. I know a car backfiring is just that. Once in a while a speeding vehicle in the corner of my eye will put my heart in my throat, and there was that weird incident with the chair in the road...

For the most part, though, I'm fine.

Today I was stretched out on the couch around 1500, thinking about taking a nap.

BLAM!

I rolled halfway off the couch and froze - what the fuck?

It was DEFINITELY an explosion, and it was reasonably close. (In my limited experience, explosions that are close enough to worry about have a flat sound. The big hollow booms imply the distance for an echo. Your mileage may vary.)

I jumped up (ducking, I noted), and stood a moment. Then I called Mr. Abby.

"You okay?" I asked. He does work at a big fat target.

"Yeah, I'm on my way home. Why?"

"Something just blew up. Close to here. Huh. Well, see you in a few."

There were no sirens. There was no shooting. I stood in the back yard, smoking and wondering if I was totally going crazy. It had been such a familiar Iraq sound. Coulda sworn it sounded like a mortar impacting.

A neighbor a few houses away walked outside and looked at me.

"Hey," he called. "You have power?"

"Yeah - why?"

"Well, this whole side of the road just lost it."

Ahhh...transformer. A transformer blew up. Iraqi transformers blew often (a spectacle, at night).

I exhaled. I am officially Not Totally Insane.

"Nope!" I called cheerfully. "Hope it's back soon for ya!"