I drove down to Teeny-Tiny Town today, having had no sleep since… well, I’m not certain when, but I’ve been writing – really writing – for real writing, so No Sleep Disease isn’t exactly a bad thing. This time.
On the way down, I saw a small plane tipped over on the four-lane median strip, surrounded by a single fire truck and a couple of cop cars. I thought I might be hallucinating at first, but then remembered that if that was the case, my imagination would have turned it into an airliner. I ought maybe check the news to be certain (I assume a plane landing on the highway might be considered news around here, anyway), but I think it’s safe to say I actually saw what I think I saw.
Yup. It’s good to know I’m not completely nuts. Ahem…*
When I got to Teeny-Tiny Town, though, and saw that photo of my mother in leathers on a motorcycle… well…. that was something I was pretty certain was all in my own mind.
Until she started to laugh, and told me the story…
Seems My Brother the Trespasser (or maybe it was a nephew – I’ve had no sleep, and my mom can’t remember…) bought himself a new ride this past spring, and went down to show it off to my mom and my sister, who were both suitably impressed. Mom was so impressed, in fact, that she told one of the aides in the Nursing Home that it was her hog.
I don’t know why, but the aide didn’t believe her!
Mom said she would prove it, and got the Trespasser/Nephew/Whoever to fit her up, put her on the bike to pose, and then had [somebody] get a couple of copies of this pic printed up. The aide displays her copy on her fridge at home. I stole the other copy, to show you all how cool my mom is…
Look real close now… she’s not pointing at you. She’s giving you the finger (yeah, yeah, she’s flipping the bird backwards – give the ol’ lady a break – she’s 85).
We had a visit to the graveyard (my dad’s monument is finally in place – his boat, sailing off into the sunset lasered into it somehow – he would have been right impressed, I think – and it’s an odd kind of comfort to see that boat on there, sailing away…), and went out for lunch before I sneaked off back home, pilfered photo safely tucked away.
On the way back, I saw an upside down tractor-trailer in the ditch, which my brain turned into a crash-landed Borg ship for a minute. The lack of armed militia tipped me back into the real world soon enough, but not before a whole ‘nother story clicked into place, waiting for me to start writing when the current project is put to bed.
Which is where I’ll be going… once I’ve pecked out a few more scenes.
So the other night, in the middle of one of The Evil Hypnotist’s dark, white nights, which, incidentally, turned into one of my own, I sat straight up in what passes for my bed, recalling that earlier that day I’d discovered a load of laundry from God knows how long ago, still sitting in the washing machine. I had intended to rewash it before the mold grew.
I had just remembered that I’d forgotten. That’s a stupid phrase. But that’s what happened.
Up I got, and in I went to the little closet that houses the washer and dryer (and all of my clothes, on a rack, and on shelves, and in filing cabinets). There’s also one of those huge double washtub/sink kind of deals in there, which means there is only enough room for me to stand in front of the washing machine and turn around to come back out of the closet.
It never occurred to me that I might need an emergency plan in place in case of an emergency. You know, the kind of plan that includes how to get all the stuff out of there in a hurry. In case of an emergency.
What kind of emergency could there be in my laundry room?
Flooding comes to mind.
I have a little apartment-sized washer and dryer; the dryer is up on a stand and the washer sits in front of the laundry tub/sink thing with its hose attached to the cold water faucet. In order to start the washer, I have to lean waaaaaaay over it to reach the cold water tap and turn it on.
I don’t leave the tap turned on all the time, as I’m afraid the pressure might build up or something and blow the washer hose off the faucet, and then the water will just run all night/day down the drain and my so-far-kind-and-friendly landlord will raise my rent and/or start charging me for utilities.
It was 2 am. I had just gotten out of bed, wincing as I walked barefoot into the laundry room (closet) on freezing cold ceramic tiles, wearing a t-shirt and my underwear.
I leaned over and turned the tap on.
Except, the tap had never been turned off since the last laundry load (which was still sitting, molding, in the washer) had been done, and…
The tap came off in my hand.
And water shot from whatever you call the pipe you attach the tap to, with amazing pressure straight at the wall, where it ricocheted (does water “ricochet”? I can’t find a better word at the moment) and doused the entire room/closet, and everything in it, me included.
I did the only thing I could think of to do, which was shriek for Kyla to come. What the hell; it’s not like she was asleep or anything….
Luckily, because the dog started to bark when I started yelling…
By the time Ky figured out where I was screaming from and opened the door, I had climbed over the washing machine and into the sink, where I sat in my t-shirt and underwear, in a high-pressure jet of freezing cold water, attempting to screw the tap back on.
And she said, “WTF?! What did you DO?!”
To which I calmly replied at the top of my voice, “Never mind! HELP ME!!”
“How? What do you want me to do?!”
“Uhhhhhh…. I don’t know… get a towel…?”
“Are you joking?! A towel?!”
So of course we both started to laugh…
And I could not get that tap to screw back on. I could jam it on the pipe – which caused all the water to spritz out the seam into my face – but I couldn’t turn it.
I didn’t know where the shut-off valve was, either, so Ky decided that she would pull all the stuff out of there and look for it. She had to fold my bed back into couch-form to accomplish that, though.
And first she had to convince the Lily-Dawg that it was safe to get off my bed, which took a lot of doing.
Meanwhile, a bzillion gallons of water flowed over the floor and through a tiny hole drilled in the wall, into the sauna.
Aha! I had always wondered why that hole was there. At least the rest of the place wouldn’t flood…
Granted, that same bzillion gallons of cold water was flowing over me before it hit the floor, and I was slowly turning into a half-naked ice-cube.
Ky finally got the bed together, the washer out, and some towels down… but couldn’t find the shut-off valve anywhere. I asked her to take my glasses off my face, as I couldn’t see through them in the condition they were in, and that’s when I noticed the valve hiding behind the wash tub, and managed to reach down between the tub and the wall to twist it closed.
By the time we got all the water off the floor, the walls, the dryer, and got my clothes spread out all over to dry, it was 4:30 am.
I lay in bed, shivering… neither of us slept at all.
I had to work that afternoon – and dancing in the parking lot on no sleep is no fun. It was at work that I realized I still hadn’t rewashed the moldering laundry…
…but Suzi tagged me with a meme, and I’ll do it because she kinda scares me (she drinks MOLD!).
Before I get to that, though, I would like to point out the peacefulish picture above. That’s how life has been lately, although I’m pretty much either at work, or asleep. That’s right – I said asleep. Insomnia no longer plagues me.
I think it helps that I’m outside a lot, running a lot, eating more…. And I get to dance at work (I don’t dance alone – I make everybody dance). I’m finally working a “Dream Job” again…. This is the one I dreamed of having when I was 4. Guess I’m late with pretty much everything.
I haven’t had any time to write – I only just got my little Basement Loft back in order after three weeks of doing NO housework other than laundry. It took me less than an hour. I moved to the right place, didn’t I? 🙂
Okay, so on to the dreaded meme. I’m supposed to come up with 7 random things about myself that few, if any, people know. I don’t think there’s 7 random things about me that *I* know, truthfully, but I’ll give it a shot (I told you that Suzi scares me, right?).
1) I have one eyebrow. Or I would have one eyebrow, if I didn’t delete the bit between what would make two eyebrows.
2) I’ve lived in 22 different places (abodes, not cities) in my lifetime. That’s equivalent to moving house once every 1.9 years. Pretty bad for someone who doesn’t adapt to change easily, huh?
3) I shaved my head when I was 35. I told everybody I did it for charity (which was true, really – hey, I raised $500!), but really it was because I had always wanted to see what I’d look like, and the charity-thing gave me a good excuse to do so.
4) I’m going to shave my head again when I’m 50. You can hold me to that (…and this time, I might keep it shaved.).
5) After I moved into my first apartment here in the Sault, I lived in my claw-foot bathtub. When I wasn’t at work, I was in a hot bath with a book. I even ate my meals in the bathroom.
6) My first marriage wasn’t supposed to be a marriage. I was asked to have a child, not get married. I only got the “married” part because I wouldn’t have a child out of wedlock at the age of 19. My husband never got the child part, so I guess I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain.
7) My one and only child was born out of wedlock. We didn’t get married until two months after she was born, and then we got married through the mail. I’m a bad, BAD girl, I guess. 😉
Now I’m supposed to tag a bunch of other people. I’m not going to, though.