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emmanation

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Archive for the ‘the house’ Category

the doorknob

Thursday, November 9th, 2017

The house is brand new. I have a whole category about it.

And recently, I can’t open the front door from the inside.

The door has a deadbolt but no doorknob lock, so don’t go thinking that’s it. (I mean, don’t put it beyond to me to repeatedly try and open a locked door – that’s the first thing I’d expect as well. In this case, though, physically impossible.) It’s just, sometimes, the doorknob refuses to be turned. It’s kind of like someone is holding it from the other side, but the other side is one of those press down latch things.

It has to be a house pressure-change thing, right?

Important to the theory that’s coming: weird men have been knocking on the door in the afternoons I’ve been home. I haven’t *answered* the door, because they are weird men and I’m a woman smaller than a Great Dane, but … they’ve been here. I sort of think they’ve been politicians cause it’s that time of year, but one was wearing a bright blue satin jacket and was the height of the whole door. The height he can’t help. but the jacket would be an off brand choice for a local politician, yeah?

So, my working theory is that I have a ghost and he’s protecting me from the strange men by holding the door shut.

(I didn’t say it was a good theory. If it is a ghost, the fact that he doesn’t understand that I can also leave through the back door or the garage means he’s kind of a busted one.)

Crockett is almost never here or awake when I’m trying to go out the front door (dog walks, mostly), so my problem is unsubstantiated. He actually is able to leave through the front door. So … something is wrong with either my house or my ghost. I’m not sure which I prefer.

I was born in Delaware

Friday, November 18th, 2016

I was not born in Delaware, I’m just watching this show called ‘No Tomorrow’ (that’s apparently been cancelled I just found out by googling for a link) where this one guy didn’t believe in Delaware and this other guy said he was born in Delaware … it was funnier than I’m making it sound. Jokes like that are not why the show was cancelled, probably? This face is definitely not why it got cancelled.

Crockett is out, I’m watching a cancelled show, and there’s a smell in the house.

My life is just one party after another.

I can’t locate the smell. It’s got … well, it smells vaguely of … it smells like poo. Specifically, like a dog had an indoor accident, and yet. I’ve been over the house like NINE TIMES and there is NOTHING. I sniffed the dogs themselves, NOTHING. I checked my shoes. That’s right, NOTHING.

It is 100% not the candle from yesterday, although I understand why you’d think that if you read these two posts in a row.

I’m wondering if somehow Deaner distracted me and pooped in the basement? He loves the basement, but I can’t go check because see above re: Crockett being out. (I don’t go into the basement when it’s dark and Crockett isn’t here. Blame 35 years of horror movie lessons.)

Otherwise, I’m concerned that it might be my nose. Or my shirt. Or the sewer system. I’m not sure which of those is worst.

Maybe there’s no smell in Delaware.

party like it’s goddamn CHRISTMAS

Wednesday, December 16th, 2015

Sometime in the last eleven months, I lost half a Christmas tree.

Here’s what happened.

Last Dec 15th, I moved into a new house. At that point, I put up the five (six? five.five? I don’t know) foot pre-lit fake tree from Target that I’ve had since my age started with two and Agnes and Dean were just twinkles in their doggy daddies’ eyes. (I assume dog’s eyes twinkle when they’re thinking about puppies. You know, like how everyone’s eyes twinkle when they think about puppies. A Santa-style twinkle, not, like, a dirty twinkle. We’re talking about puppies here. Also, I’m sure Maida’s doggy daddy’s eyes twinkled too but she was already born when I bought the tree.)

So the tree was up, and then last January 17th, I had a housewarming/birthday party. At that point, the tree was down. The tree box was under the garage stairs.

This recent weekend after Thanksgiving, I pulled out the tree box. (See, Crockett won’t put up the tree until Advent starts cause his dad wouldn’t put up their tree until Advent started. It’s a cute tradition right up until the second I want to put up the tree and it ain’t Advent yet, but in this case Advent happened to start on the day I wanted to treeify the place, so everybody won! Except…) The tree box had half a tree in it.

The top half, if you’re wondering.

The bottom half has vanished.

So one of four things happened.

  1. I put the bottom half in a trash bag because I was too lazy to smoosh it into the box, and me or someone else accidentally threw it out. Possible! Unlikely, though, because my bags are white and it would have been a pretty clearly pokey, tree like, green-needly looking bag.
  2. It’s somewhere in this small house that neither Crockett nor I has thought to look. Possible, but only if I was drunk or something while putting the tree away. At this point we’ve looked everywhere but the attic, and I don’t recall ever entering my attic in this house. Like, ever.
  3. Someone from the housewarming thought it was a souvenir? A pokey, useless, three foot tall three foot wide souvenir?
  4. Thieves.

It’s obviously 4, and I know why.

This happened to someone ELSE in 2015, and they took my tree bottom to replace theirs. Theirs was probably lost to yet another family doing the same thing, and so on and so forth.

What happened to the first family’s tree bottom, you ask?

Those damn reindeer.

Probably.

Anyway, we bought a new tree, because we ain’t thieves like the legions of tree stealers before us.

Anyone want a tree top?

 

my future’s so bright

Wednesday, May 6th, 2015

Thing A: When I started this new job, the one I super like, the person I replaced was a small, dark haired woman who left to go write books. Since I am a small, dark haired woman who enjoys putting pen to paper (and using douchey sounding cliches, apparently), people actually called me her name a few times when I first started.

(Ok, their confusion was likely a hair/size thing, not a writing thing, because I didn’t really talk about that. Not that I don’t want you reading this, dear coworkers! (Just kidding, I super don’t. Leave, please.))

Anyway, she’s back and I dig her and I’m wondering how much of it is just plain self absorption on my part. (I like me. I know, I’m subtle about it.) She’s a cat person, though, so obviously there are some key differences.

Thing B: I hung a vinyl bull skull decal in my loft this afternoon. I was going for super tough, but then they ruined it by including vinyl rose decals too. Like I WASN’T going to make the bull skeleton wear a rose, right? What kind of willpower do they think they’re dealing with here?

Thing C: A girlfriend of mine and I decided to go full paleo for a month, and support each other through it. She’s trying to be healthy, I’m mostly focused on going to Mexico in a month and feeling awesome in one of the seven swimsuits that I found while I was going through my drawers to try to justify buying a swimsuit for the trip. (Is there a sensible justification? Nope. SEVEN. But I might get a new one anyway.)

It’s terrible. I actually took it lightly when we made the call, because I thought I was eating pretty close to paleo already, but I have been cranky and headachey and achey and I’m sure a real joy to be around since about six hours in.

I realized I eat a lot of chocolate in the morning. And the afternoon. And after dinner, also. Plus, Grape Nuts. And french bread.

Do you think Grape Nuts spread in melted chocolate on french bread would be, like, at all good? I’m asking for a friend.

anthony loved MY spicy shrimp stew

Thursday, January 15th, 2015

Watchin’ The Taste, makin’ some playlists, la-la-la.

I’ve been putting Friends on in the background for the last few days while I do stuff around the house, and I would really like to integrate more of Pheobe’s here’s what’s happing song writing into my life.

The playlists are a mess la-la-la.

See, more charming!

The playlists for the party are a mess. Right now it’s 175 songs I like divided into quiet, medium, and loud categories, where quiet means no one will want to sing along, medium means some people will want to sing along, and loud means GODDAMNIT YOU BETTER ALL BE SINGING RIGHT NOW SO HELP ME.

Put that thing back where it came from or so help me la-la-la! See, singing in real life is memorable and cute. Especially if you’re a cartoon monster.