It's the classic horror flick set up:  Late at night.  Kids in bed.  Hubbie away traveling.  The glow of the television flickering across the face of a woman on the couch knitting needles flying in her hands.  (OK, maybe the knitting part isn't classic horror flick.)  A night shattering crash outside the window nearest her.  Fear. 

Except the noise went "kwangangangangangang".  It was loud.  It was night shattering.  It was certainly not scary.  Clearly the silliness quality of the noise is inversely proportional to the primal fear that it can inspire.  Perhaps in order for a noise to cause an instinctual fear, it must trigger a reaction that dates back to the dawn of humanity when we had to worry about what vicious things were wandering around the plains at night that might actually eat us. And I got to tell you, nothing potentially lethal ever went  "kwangangangangang" because my heart rate didn't jump one beat.  Near as I can figure, I large icicle broke off the roof and hit the wires that enter the house causing the them to vibrate.  Not scary.  End of story.

Oh and by the way....I FINISHED MY CHRISTMAS KNITTING YESTERDAY!!!!  No one gets only one sock.  No one gets three quarters of a scarf.  No one gets a hat with needles still in the crown. 

Merry Christmas!  Happy Winter Solstice!  Happy Hanukkah (late, sorry)!  Happy Kwanza!  Happy Holidays!  Have a splendid whatever!