Monday, June 14, 2010

This House Will Self-Destruct...

Your Mission; Should You Decide to Accept It?
It's said that some ancient builders would mix their own blood into the clay of the structures they worked on.  I'm worried that this might be my home improvement philosophy.

A few weeks back, I decided to bring the patio cushions in as a thunderstorm hit.  Who wants to sit on a wet chair, right?  All the stripey things were safely in the garage - except that one.  Out there.  I jogged out in the rain to grab it, and WHAM! I am facedown on the wet cement.  I remembered the little 2-inch step as I waited for my big toe to float by.  But no, it was still there on my foot.  So are the scars.

This [House] Will Self-Destruct in Five Seconds
Besides hidden steps, our new house has a timer, too.  The place is set to self destruct every Friday at 4:30PM CDT.  Not kidding.  Three Fridays ago (at 4:30PM, sharp), our A/C drain clogged and flooded parts of both floors.  Two Fridays back, the entire upstairs A/C unit blew a (flux?!) capacitor, which sounds like a word that repair guys just made up for my benefit.  And I appreciate that, because now I sound like I know what I'm talking about:
A/C Dude:  "Sir, your delta gamma niner 4-2-1 capacitor failed."
E.C.:  "Oh, the CAPACITOR!  I knew it looked funny when I was expertly diagnosing the problem.*  Here's your check, dude."
A/C Dude:  "Thanks.  See you next Friday."
E.C.:  "Right.  Hey, Babe!  It was the capacitor, like I said!"
Last Friday (at...wait for it... 4:30PM CDT) Jack's playing and we hear The Silence.  And then a noise like crumpling cellophane tape.  I sprint through the spotless house to him.  My parents ring the doorbell to start their weekend visit with us.  The Skip is innocent, and the cellophane noise was a small waterfall.

Ten minutes later, I am in the attic, pouring sweat, cold air whooshing up under me, shirtless, covered in fiberglass insulation, leg bleeding, with a roll of hockey tape and a LED flashlight dangling from my mouth.  Black crud and rusted metal flakes (?!) cover Jack's carpet and water is streaming down from the ceiling.  From the gaping hole in the pink ceiling, actually.

Have I mentioned that Jack's room is floor-to-ceiling shocking pink?  Shocking pink with black and gold fleur-de-lys and silver glittered diamonds painted everywhere?  Yeah.  Tiny plastic jewels encrust the band of each ah, fleur.  There's a black feather boa on his bathroom mirror.  He has a pink bathtub and potty.  The place looks like a New Orleans cathouseI'll try to post pictures of this abomination ASAP.  I digress.

So The Fool (that'd be me) was snooping around in the attic for the leak.  You know, around the drain line that A/C Dude had "fixed" two Fridays back.  And oh, boy, did I find it.  I also found something else:  That the top of one of my rafters is split and crooked.  When I spotted the leak, I leapt over there and shot right off the misshapen rafter, my shin riding down a metal gas pipe, and then on down through the insulation and the ceiling.  The gash on my leg is 7 inches long and has black bands around the bottom.  My ankle is purple, gray and black (WAY cool).  Don't worry, I'll spare you pics.  You're welcome.

And my house is now literally being held together by hockey tape, a kitchen trash bag and a prayer.

Favorite Image of the Week:
Majesty chasing Jack around with a Gerbera daisy.  The daisy is barking.

*i.e. Googling "Why is my A/C not working?!"


Anonymous said...

wow. what a bummer. I was actually expectiing to hear the 'Mission Impossible'music in the background and a video of Tom Cruise doing a wheelie on some kind of big motorcycle with his obligatory long hair waving in the breeze! Hope the A/C dude can really fix it now!!

Gentry said...

seriously... you should look into playing hockey again. MUCH less violent than your new house!

Cindy Deister said...

OUCH!!! Just open some windows THIS Friday! Seriously, I hope that gets fixed soon and that you took a day off work to recuperate.

El Comodoro said...

Ryan I think you're right, bro. I'll take being slashed and bodychecked over being in my attic, any day.

Nope, Cindy, no missy worky for me. I mean, why would I? Work is the one place I'm almost guaranteed not to be physically harmed!