For a birthday in early August, I had 11 helium balloons in the house – not an extravagant purchase because they were only one dollar each from the Dollar Tree. I might have even bought more just for the festivity of it, but it was somewhat embarrassing standing around while a lady filled them, not to mention a challenge getting them into the car without dealing with an escapee.
I have a vague memory of helium balloons in my childhood having a very limited lifespan; they were made of the same stuff as regular balloons, if I recall correctly. These helium balloons I have been buying for a few years are of foil, and to my surprise some years ago, retained the helium for weeks.
They would seek out the ceiling, and if guided, would find a place that would be in someone’s line of sight at unexpected moments. After awhile, you get used to them, and what the heck, they aren’t doing any harm . . . they homestead the place.
Inevitably, however, they do slowly lose their helium and sink a couple of inches off the ceiling, catch air movement in the house and show up at the most unexpected times. That’s not bad, really, because they are still above your head and they don’t have faces that look like monsters. (Although, one year we did have a houseful of Elmos, but he’s such a cute and lovable guy.)
There does come a time when they sink to person level; it’s not scary, but it’s sad. You know they are going and in going, they not only sink, they get more and more concave. Walk through the hall, turn the corner and come face to face with a butterfly that appears to have been punched in the nose and you will not feel festive anymore.
So what to do? Put them out of their misery? Set them free to watch them not soar, but catch on a bush? Wait until they are sitting on the sofa with you and then just decide you can’t take it anymore and break, becoming a balloon slayer?
As you ponder this, you hear the tinkling of a Christmas tune – BECAUSE ONE OF THOSE NOVELTY HOLIDAY CLOCKS STORED IN A BOX HAS HAD A FLASH OF BATTERY RENEWAL.
Sigh, just sigh.
There’s nothing quite like walking across a dark room in the middle of the night in search of a glass of water, or midnight snack, or…. well for any old reason and all of a sudden being confronted with a floating spectacle in the middle of the room. You bump smack dab into it before you realize it’s there and it startles you so much you take a quick step back hitting the lamp on the end table which topples and hits the floor with a crash awakening your husband who comes out ready to take on an army. He comes around the corner and trips on the toy that the grandchild left in the middle of the doorway which you had deftly avoided knowing it was most likely there (years of experience) and goes flailing across the room, slams into the floating dying balloon and goes down for the count.
There is a reason we avoid helium balloons.
Plus the only way to dispose of them is to have a grand time inhaling the helium and talking funny for a few minutes.