One morning, I walk outside to get into my car that had been warming up across the street for 10 minutes, and am blocked in by a full-length semi, backed into our driveway, and also taking up the rest of the street. Charlie is in a panic, because our roommate's car is in the way, our roommate is on vacation, and he needs it moved NOW.
I run inside, look for his keys, can't produce them.
Why? Because they are in the ignition. Charlie has broken into the car and is on his way to the front seat by the time I get back outside. He starts the truck and moves it without asking. Okay.
Beverly then asks if they can use our garage as a staging place for their building project (turns out, the semi was delivering the pieces of an Ikea-like hot tub structure). Why do they need to be inside? Because it is 10 degrees and SNOWING.
Why can't they use their own garage? Oh, because it's PACKED FULL of SHIT. Because they are hoarders. What do you say to your landlady when she asks if she can infiltrate your clean space?
"Sure..."
I ask that when they are not working, they close the garage since we have 15 pairs of skis, several bikes and a gaggle of other expensive gear.
I come home after work to the garage door open, my $1000+ race bike thrown in the corner and a broken helmet, our garage completely rearranged, with framed 2x4s and tools everywhere. Landlady and Charlie? Nowhere to be found. Perfect.
Our house had reached 45 degrees, since the garage was open all day. I breathe a deep yogi breath. It doesn't work.
They return to their respective homes down south somewhere, and we have a lovely hot tub structure thing beside our driveway. Landlady finally went back to work, hopefully putting an end to these maddening home improvement projects.
The project is essentially done. Evidence is below. Doesn't it look great? Come over and join us. Bring beer. Don't expect to see Sierra stars.
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| The Piercing Pagoda (aka Bev-train's hot tub) |
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