An Open Letter
Nov. 23rd, 2003 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oakenguyDear Saint Buster, Saint Daffy, Saint Joey, Saint Lucy, and other spirits of slapstick and mischief who might be listening,
I know that I owed you for the help over the last couple days. And that I had some karmic debt coming my way for missed obligations. But really now.
Don't get me wrong--the washing machine? Bigtime props for the washing machine. Letting the shutoff valve work for the first hose gave me that false sense of security, so that when I unhooked the second hose and the cold water sprayed in my face--brilliant. Of course you made the water force so strong I couldn't screw the hose back in, and of course I'd unhooked the washing machine so that when I stuck the hose inside it just came out the hole in the bottom. I wish I could've seen what it looked like from outside when I improvised that second hose with rolled-up linoleum so that the water gushed out the open window and onto the garage--I'm sure it was beautiful.
Oh, and after it finally ended and I'd managed over the course of an hour to mop up the lake that had formed (with the use of mouse-nibbled sweaters that'd been thrown in the trash, because of course all the other absorbant materials had already been moved out, well done there) having the landlord drop by unexpectedly? Even through the panic and hysteria, I had to admire you.
And the clout on the head I gave myself while taking boxes up the basement steps with the low ceiling? Crude, but brief physical gags like that have their place. No hard feelings about that one.
But really now. Having me fall *down* those SAME steps two loads later, twisting my ankle and skinning my knee? Where's the style in that?
I know that I owed you for the help over the last couple days. And that I had some karmic debt coming my way for missed obligations. But really now.
Don't get me wrong--the washing machine? Bigtime props for the washing machine. Letting the shutoff valve work for the first hose gave me that false sense of security, so that when I unhooked the second hose and the cold water sprayed in my face--brilliant. Of course you made the water force so strong I couldn't screw the hose back in, and of course I'd unhooked the washing machine so that when I stuck the hose inside it just came out the hole in the bottom. I wish I could've seen what it looked like from outside when I improvised that second hose with rolled-up linoleum so that the water gushed out the open window and onto the garage--I'm sure it was beautiful.
Oh, and after it finally ended and I'd managed over the course of an hour to mop up the lake that had formed (with the use of mouse-nibbled sweaters that'd been thrown in the trash, because of course all the other absorbant materials had already been moved out, well done there) having the landlord drop by unexpectedly? Even through the panic and hysteria, I had to admire you.
And the clout on the head I gave myself while taking boxes up the basement steps with the low ceiling? Crude, but brief physical gags like that have their place. No hard feelings about that one.
But really now. Having me fall *down* those SAME steps two loads later, twisting my ankle and skinning my knee? Where's the style in that?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-11-23 06:40 pm (UTC)*pats head*
Your'e okay, right? Just checking...
ROTFLMAO.
No really, that's terrible.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-23 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-24 06:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-24 08:11 am (UTC)Okay, yes, I know, we live in Dubya's America, and therefore ALL of us are living in a very dark comedy...
no subject
Date: 2003-11-24 08:18 am (UTC)