Today I (with Mike's assistance) moved the washer and dryer I was lucky to get hold of into the basement. Washers = heavy and cumbersome. To so so, we had to move the stove, but luckily it went off without a hitch. Or so it seemed.
Allow me to now pause to extol the virtuous prospects of being able to do laundry in my own home. That's a luxury I have not enjoyed for over a decade and I'm greatly looking forward to it. Just think: no more trying to schedule the trips to the laundromat; no more loud/bratty/scampering children underfoot whilst at the laundromat; no more getting to the laundromat only to discover the change machine is empty/out of order; no more spending $20 or more per visit at the laundromat ... smell the spring fresh freedom!
Back to the scandalous events of the day.
It was quite a bit later that I returned home after a jaunt out in the real world, but it took mere moments to realize that something was up. Someone had plotted to kill me. To do me in. To bump me off. To deal with me once and for all.
You see, I turned the key in my back door, heard the familiar click, and swung the door open, stepping casually over the threshold. As I reached for the light switch, my nose sent a warning to my head. There was a strong smell of natural gas in the air. I withdrew my hand to my side and sniffed again. Definitely a smell of blow-the-house-sky-high gas. I immediately went downstairs (in the half-light of dusk) and turned off the gas supply to the stove. Returning upstairs, I went to move the stove out from the wall, theorizing that we may have loosened the seal to the gas supply hose in back when we moved it in order to make room for the laundry machines (which, incidentally, will make trips to the laundromat a thing of the past). That's when I saw it. Evidence that someone was out to get me. To do me in. To bump me off, etc., etc.
The gas supply to the front right-hand burner was on.
Now, I won't mention the name of my attemped killer (murderer, hit man, assassin), but his name starts with M and rhymes with IKE. (He's also married to Betsy and the father of her three children.) Oh, he denies it, but I'm not convinced.
Still, he did offer to drop by while I'm at work tomorrow (since I'll be gone from about 7:30 in the morning and won't get in until about 10:00ish) to pop all the hoses and such on the machines so I don't need to. I guess that means I'll forgive him his homicidal tendencies.
But I will check the gas before I leave and again when I return.
5 comments:
Wow. Mike's a real amateur! There are so many better ways to kill you.
That's ... um ... comforting.
I personally would've used something related to your love of the Wizard of Oz. (ie: poisonous munchkin, tin man time bomb, a real lion posing as a cowardly one perhaps.) ;)
...just bein' silly of course. I'm very glad you didn't get blow'ed-up. And very jealous that you have your own laundry facilities.
...post script, in answer to your question, I'm doing fine Jerome. I appreciate you asking, and furthermore appreciate you checking out my blog. I have many things to feel grateful for although I may not paint that picture when I'm whining my way through a daily posting. :) I hope that you are equally (or more so) blessed and well.
Oh, yeah. I meant ... uh ... there are so many better ways to kill 'people'. Yeah. 'People'.
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