The call is coming from inside the house

Time to put Annie’s protest signs back to work.

I don’t watch horror—never have, never liked it. I don’t like to be scared. I mean, why do they always pick up the phone? Or trip all the time?? But recently my grandson began watching Stranger Things and one day, when I was there to look after him, I started watching it with him. He was already on season two and as we watched, I played on my phone, darted in and out of the kitchen and basically covered my eyes most of the time. I tried not to watch as much as possible, but by the end of the evening, I was interested...and then I decided I’d go ahead and catch up and watch season one.

And then a funny thing happened…I started watching on my own. I didn’t wait for Luca (who forbade me from watching with him after all, despite all the work I did to catch up) but started ditching most of the items on my to-do list to watch the show. And I’m talking barely getting an email out, fixing another cup of coffee and flipping on the TV at around 11am. I never watch TV during the day—it’s unimaginable that I would settle in for a couple of hours to watch a show that I didn’t even think I’d like. But that’s what I did.

When I returned to my house after a few days of watching Luca (and Stranger Things) I figured I’d resume my regular routine; morning coffee, word puzzles, get to my computer and start knocking things off my list. And the following day started out that way, but the pull was too strong—as if the Mind Flayer had control of my actions and was forcing me to continue watching the show. Another crazy feeling I had was that I didn’t feel guilty about it. And I should have…my plan for week one of 2026 was to work on my books, organize my classes and plan some events for Pocket Full of Rocks. I haven’t touched any of it.

Upon some reflection on this behavior (because I can’t seem to leave a good thing alone) it seemed that I was in kind of a denial. Stranger Things—as completely random and bizarre a catalyst that it was—was compelling enough to suck me in and keep me from doing almost anything else. I was in a little Stranger Things cocoon. I think the reason I needed a complete break from reality is that reality is so horrifying right now. What’s a little scary TV show compared to the outright brutal and uncontrollable reign of terror the current Trump administration is firebombing our country with? And then, yesterday—on January 7^th—they crossed the line into murder.

I was going to write a whole different essay this week, but I just can’t shake the despondency that I feel about what’s happening to our country. Our democracy. Our good will toward each other. The daily dissonance I experience—thinking I can just go about my business, writing my stuff, caring for my family, making a doctor’s appointment while human beings are being kidnapped, deported and murdered in our American cities on our American streets has finally gotten to me. I’ve been hurled into a parallel world of horror, ironically, to protect myself.

I don’t know if this is true, but I think—in one way—watching all this horror has integrated the dissonance. I can’t keep my life separate from my country’s life anymore. There’s a monster in the house, the White House, a monster I have no idea how to fight. It scares me, but I can’t stay in hiding forever—whether from my own dissonant denial or a Netflix binge.

And I don’t even know what that means, but one thing I know is that it’s time call out the monsters when I see them and use my voice and my words to fight them. They are among us and it’s time for them to go.

If watching Stranger Things taught me anything, it’s that monsters get destroyed in the end.