Welcome. This blog was started three years ago by four aspiring writers who are now three published authors of novels and short stories (Barbara Elsborg, Dawn Jackson, Arlene Webb) and one multiple award-winning writer (Laurie Green). We blog to keep readers updated on our new releases or other random topics. We hope you enjoy your stay. :] Coffee?

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Part II. Adventures in House-Flipping and Multiple Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Let Your Husband Watch Home Improvement Shows.

Day 12: Today was all about ripping out walls and ceilings, gutting the monster where it sits. Gone are the boxes of mouse poop, musty magazines and discarded clothing. Nothing but walls and ceilings. My husband has decided I will be of more use at our house for the time being. What am I talking about? I know, I know. He really needed me down there. Yes and no. Things are getting a bit more complicated. My husband gathered the family earlier this week to lay the news on us. We’re not just flipping it now; we’re going to be moving in when we’re done.

So what’s all this mean? Well... It means for one, I’ve got not only one house to fix up, but two. My mission, should I chose to accept it, and I didn’t have a choice, is to pack up and stage the home I’ve lived in for 15 years. I hummed and hawed about where to start for at least an hour, then finally decided on the kitchen.

First off, where did all this stuff come from? I don’t remember having moved this much in. The first item to go, Tupperware lids. I had boxes and boxes of Tupperware lids and not a container in sight to put them on. Seems the husband likes to take the dishes, but only bring the lids home. Which begs one to ask, where do they go? I mean is it like the socks when you stick them in the dryer? Do they rearrange their molecules and shift to another plain? Where? It’s a mystery. However, I can tell you where the lids went. Recyclable plastics. Therefore, if you’re looking for a couple hundred lids for your topless Tupperware containers, there you go.

Of course, my duties don’t end there. Oh no, that would be too easy. Seems I’ve opened a catering business. Yes, you heard me. I cooked a ham dinner, with all the trimmings packed it up, and hauled it down to the work site to feed the men. I set up tables and had the whole picnic thing going. It smelled good, looked good. I was so proud of the spread I’d put on. We had a beautiful day for it too. Sixty-degree temps and sunshine. What more could a girl ask for?

An animal control officer, for one.

Yes, our picnic was invaded by not one, not two, or even three dogs. Across the way is a farmhouse that the owner doesn’t live in, but her pets do. They busted out of the fence and were on the food in five seconds flat. I had four dogs, six cats and one guinea hen. It was awful. They were jumping up on the table, in the cars, on your lap, in your plates. Worse yet, they were neglected and half-starved. And the scary thing, the dogs have bitten the neighbours before. Yikes. I had to throw the ham and run. It was a feeding frenzy. I went home and made egg salad sandwhiches and the crew ate in their vehicles.

I did call animal control. Not only for the condition of the animals that raided our picnic, but for the condition of the farm animals across the street in the barnyard. Never in my life have I seen such horrible neglect. There was this donkey, his hoofs were at least six inches long and curled up on the ends like Arabian slippers. The hooves of several sheep and horses, though not as bad, were cracked to the tops and the animals lame. Tomorrow the state is paying them a visit. The last thing I wanted to do was move into the neighbourhood and make enemies. But some things you can’t turn your back on, and the abuse of animals is one of them.

Okay I've donned a pair of ruby slippers and I'm going to click my heels together and none of this will be happening. Right? Okay here I go. Wait, how about some magic words too. Bippity-boppity-boo, or is it Alakazam? Whatever, work with me, okay? I never had girls, my cartoon viewing was limited to Ninja Turtles, Sponge Bob and Rin and Stimpy. Here we go. There's no place like home...

Damn. I'll see you next week with more updates.


Laurie said...

ROFL Dawn...and not at you, but with you.

Try Supercalifragilisticexpialadocious.

I don't envy you, but I do envy you your spirit and fortitude. All this and you're still writing, too. OMG, like I said, you're a dynamo. Dynamo Dawn. Has a nice ring to it, huh?

Keep posting more of your adventures.

Flick said...

Oh my goodness, Dawn. You sure you want to move into this neighbourhood! I'm with you on the sorting out. We're having new window this week and had to move a hifi system - plus CDs and cassettes etc. Found 100 mini discs and player. Useless technology now ipods etc in use. All the cassettes were thrown. Elton John, Abba, Cat Stevens, Pink Floyd etc - Where could I play them? Hundreds of bit of wire with pluggy things at the end - I'm highly technical you can tell - obviously saved because they might be useful. I'd no idea what they were so I threw them in the bin. Please don't let son or husband go looking for a lead to make the camera charge or the TV work. EEK.
PS - I have a lovely collection of typperware lids that would match yours.

Dawn said...

Hey, don't throw the tapes away. I've got a tape player/record player I saved from the house and I've been looking for someone to foist, uh give it to. :)
Bonus, It looks like it takes 8track.

Flick said...

Oh bother, too late. The bin men have been and taken everything. Well, we had two new windows fitted today. The house is freezing. It was amazingly clean and quick. I quite liked the view when they were out, but it would have been even chillier! Flipping workmen don't want the cookies husband made me buy - umm they're just sitting in the kitchen calling me. The chocolate ones know my name. Tooo tempting. I have no willpower.

Authoress said...

Of course I had to fly over here to see what you meant about house-flipping. ;)

But the dog part had me in a cold sweat. You should've warned me. Surely you've read my bio -- "I hate dogs."

This isn't just your everyday, run-of-the-mill hatred. It's black loathing.

I would have died on the spot, had I been at your picnic.