No, I Don't Know Why I Think This Shit Up.

So...remember I said I found the super creepy hanging teething ring with keys on the closed section of the trail? (Yes yes, I admit it's POSSIBLE it wasn't in any way disturbing to other people and it's only a sign of my own undiagnosed psychosis* that makes ME think of horror movies. Just go with it for a sec.)

Yeah. There's another one, on a signpost not far from where I found the last set.

Yes, the original set is still hanging there, a bright little "oh look, someone lost their toy" invitation to step off the trail into who knows what and be eaten , um, sucked into an alternate zombie dimension, no...sacrificed to a horribly angry gnome Ok I'm stopping now.

Is this a kind passerby helping some inept stroller-pusher who can't keep track of their toys (I'm the aunt to a toddler and a near-1-year-old: I know that's infernally difficult what with all the excited flailing. Mine and theirs, of course.).

Is it a deceptively sinister warning notice? STOP HERE or lose your...yeah I got nothin' here. Maybe I should push a stroller next time I hike and find out, except 1) I'm lazy, 2) I don't have a stroller, and 3) I'm already hyper aware of ticks and mosquitoes...I don't want any actual reason (like a stroller stuck on the trail) to stop and become a blood-sucking buffet.

My personal suspicion is it's some smartass finding inventive new ways to say "bite me" to other hikers.

Some OTHER smartass, people. I wouldn't be creeped out about the hanging baby toys if I was the one doing it.

Sheesh.

*Dear mental health professional, if you're reading this and diagnosing me, please keep it to yourself. For the most part, I enjoy my brand of weird. NORMAL IS BEIGE: fuck that shit.