Wednesday, July 6, 2011

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READY YOURSELF FOR A TALE, Reader Dear! I told my yard man the story in bursts of animation during supper, and finished off with the following: "It seems to me the chances of this happening are about a million to one!" I love haphazard surprises (of the good sort, naturally) and coincidental events, and... well, just wait til you hear! Just to give you some idea of the marvel of it, a shriek is involved!
Yes, indeedy!

Of course, since I've built it up to such monumental proportions, I might have to cover my ears when you say, "Oh, phooey!" (It's okay, if you really must.)

Now, first, I'll have to set up the whole thing for you, which is not my favorite part (I want to skip directly to the shriek. Which would be such a dumb thing to do. Shrieks alone do not interest me much, and I daresay you'd have the same sentiment.)


At those apartments that I mention now and then, I've got a three-unit garage building. Two of the spaces have been rented out for quite some time, but the third...ah, the third had been...well, ...uh...the third had been serving as my catch-all. Aaargh! This means it had been filling up with all kinds of paraphernalia. In the first place, there were ancient pieces of equipment in that garage that came with the building when I got it fourteen long years ago! There was something that looked like it may have been the latest in portable bed frames circa the 1920's; a hunky old electrical box of some kind that weighs I'll bet a ton; and various other truly decrepit articles not worth a dime. In addition to all of that, I piled it full of odds and ends of furnishings gleaned from vacated apartments ( items that just barely squeaked into the "save" category); cans of paint; a rattly extension ladder; stove burner plates, hanging vertical blinds and faucets still in their boxes (for replacements, you know); a charcoal grill (that was a tenant leave-behind, too); an old treadle Singer sewing machine (Y2K was looming when I made the purchase) in its antique cabinet--drawers stuffed with antique thread and other sewing items; a rotary push-mower (uh...the dread of Y2K was powerful enough to cause one to take leave of one's senses). There was also an abundance of stuff (furniture, bicycles, boxes of who-knows-what) stored there by children of mine.

Okay, so now you understand that the place was crammed quite full. And due to the fact that most things had dwelt there for years, while never once did I "tidy up," it's to be assumed it was dirty. The place was dirty.

Too, the garage door was in very poor condition. In fact, the springs were shot, making it impossible for me to open it myself. Ah, the whole situation was deplorable! So when the plumber who services the apartments for me inquired about using that garage space, I knew it was time to
take action.

First things first--I ordered a new garage door! Secondly, I pretty-please-oh-please'd The Yard Man, would he come and give me a hand?! (He had Linus to help him out, after all!) Not right away, you understand, but eventually there came a begrudging yes...

So Hurray for The Yard Man and Linus--they're hard at work! And I'm getting ever so tired just filling in the back story! The sad truth is, Reader Dear, you are going to have to sleep tonight without knowing the cool conclusion to this chronicle. It's--To Be Continued.



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