A place for my thoughts and ideas, my creative outlet, a little piece of the web for me to call my own...yeah...right...
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| a bite of chocolat... ::home:: A place for my thoughts and ideas, my creative outlet, a little piece of the web for me to call my own...yeah...right... |
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Thursday, August 01, 2002 Hahahahahaha!!! "Smooshing" is actually a technical term for a style of painting...this little home-improvement project is really teaching me a lot of highly useful things...I just hope I don't turn into Bob Villa... And I did yet another stupid thing...last night around half past midnight, I managed to lock myself out of my house...What was I doing? Rescuing a little bug that found its way into my home...See, I have this thing about not killing anything, so I always catch whatever's inside, and put it outside...look at the thanks I get for kindness...Anyway, usually, in this situation, I would go in through my computer room window, because the screen pops out...but alas, there I was, shoeless on my front porch in nothing but a bikini and shorts, trying to pry open my computer room window, which, of course, chose this one day out of eternity not to pop open...So I had to go around the outside of the house barefoot, away from the one sole street lamp, trying not to kill myself falling into a ditch or stumbling on wooden beams or the various nails and screws and pieces of scrap metal lying around this construction site of a used-to-be yard, which now is infested with 4 inch weeds due to lack of time for care...And of course all the new window screens are sterdily in place, and the back door was locked...So my last option remaining in the pitch-black of my predicament was to go in through the bulkhead...Now, this may sound like a simple task, and in any normal situation it would be, but this bulkhead is no longer the cellar door leading down to the familiar concrete and stone basement with the handy motion-sensing light above the washing machine...No, this is the nice new bulkhead that leads down a narrow set of makeshift stairs to a tiny hobbit door below...Once through the hobbit door, you proceed into the 3-foot high dirt floor passageway, laced with sharp rocks and spiders, beams, wires, propane gas pipes, and plumbing...Not only is this illogical obstical course extremely lacking in the hight category, but it is even darker than the darkest dark outside...Silence of the Lambs style...and the dark goes on infinitely as far as the eye can see, or shall I say can't see...On top of this, the floor is wave-ridden and unpredictable...See, when this new foundation was built last fall, it wasn't built in favor of a basement, but in a gracious attempt to function in this rocky Massachusettes soil...The engineers had to take into account massive immovable boulders, the old colonial foundation [built right into what I would call bedrock], and the new septic system...So I had to feel my way, hunched over on my hands and knees, through this perilous cavern called my "crawlspace"...And for your information, this was where I damaged my poor little pinky finger just the other day...And seeing as I've only been down here twice, I was completely uncertain wether or not I would find any wildlife down there, such as squirels, raccoons, or the skunk I saw, or a deranged murderer in hiding, or bee hives, and I am terrified of bees and buzzing...And of course what is most terrifying is what is unknown...Oh, and another hidden peril...Somewhere down here there's an unknown thing...It looks like a mumified cock with oozing fungus growing on it...Though we're pretty sure it's just some old wire...This poses another problem, electric shock...Other than this old wire, there's also a ground wire that hasn't been tacked up propperly yet...::sigh::...So after maneuvering up and over a few mountains and seas of dirt, I find myself at the woodpile...Now I know the other midget door is to the right of this woodpile...Also to the right of the woodpile is the landslide of cinderblocks where I disfigured my finger, propane piping, and a support beam...Not to mention the lightbulb that I can't turn on, but could hit my head on...So I feel my way over to the cinderblocks, and feel my way over to the door, and I have to kick it open because it sticks...I'm also thinking at the moment, what if some neighbor saw part of this fiasco and is now on the phone with police..."I'm sorry, officer, but I seem to have locked myself out of my own home...yes this is my house!...No, I don't have any proof of that, but..." And of course if anyone hears this and wakes up, their gonna think I'm some burglar and might come blow my head off...and of course, the handy ol' motion sensing light has been taken down because it interferes with the signal of the radio in the shed...But at least I'm in the familiar concrete and stone part of the basement, and I can feel my way over to the workbench and then up the hazardous old stairs...and into my living room... posted by Shannon | 12:48 AM |
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