Just stop.
No seriously. STOP. HELPING.
I know you are well-intentioned (Why, hello there shiny, gold-paved road to Hell!), but when you help chaos and destruction follow in your wake. You are like the Four Horsemen rolled up into a single individual. Minus the Famine. But give it time. It's probably just one of your superpowers that hasn't developed yet.
No, the universe is not responsible.
No, it is not just bad luck.
It is a matter of you not listening to anyone, no matter how loud they are screaming "LEFT!!! LEFT!! NO, YOUR OTHER LEFT!!! STOP!! OK, STOP!! APPLY THE BRAKE!! STOP THE F*CKING TRUCK!! OH FOR CHRISTSSAKE..."
CRASH! BOOM! Tinkle, tinkle, tickle, rattle...
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| This was a functioning water spigot until it was run over by a truck. |
It also doesn't help that you always know best.
I get it. I do. It's nice to be right.
You do have a lot of experience, true.
Yes, you have probably forgotten more than I have ever known about anything at any point in time.
But that doesn't exclude everyone else from having an occasional correct statement that is contrary to your own. For instance, when I said, "I checked this out with a stud finder and there isn't anything but drywall behind here. Oh. Oh. You're going to drill anyway. Oh... um, OK. Well. Oh. You're going to try again in a different spot. Nothing? Um... Maybe I should get the studfinder and just... Oh, great. Random giant hole number four. Fantastic. You know that these have to be patched, right? So let's try again shall we? Huh. What a shock. Still nothing? REALLY??!! MAYBE IT WOULD HELP IF I JUST BANG MY FOREHEAD ALONG THE WALL UNTIL I FIND A STUD, SHALL I??!"
CRASH! BOOM! Tinkle, tinkle, tickle, rattle...
Just to satisfy my curiosity, where are these huge piles of dirt coming from? And why do you keep leaving them for me like gifts of dead birds left on the doorstep by my cat? I come home and there is another random pile of dirt. Please, no more dirt unless I can dig in it and find diamonds.
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| The neighbors think I'm shooting a remake of Close Encounters |
Sadly, for most of the recent Holly House... let's just call them setbacks... I have not been home. Pulling up in the driveway after a brutal day at work to see the destruction at Ground Zero when everything was fine and functioning brilliantly when you left earlier that morning is decidedly worse than being present when it actually happens.
As I got out of my vehicle in a state of shock and mutely waved a hand at what used to be my backyard, you sat on tractor/backhoe/Implement of Destruction, laughed, and said "Man, have I got a story to tell you..."
No jury in the world would have convicted me.
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| One of the many Implements of Destruction and another Random Pile of Dirt |
It will go down in my memoirs as my proudest moment of self-restraint when I simply unlocked the back door, entered the house, went upstairs, laid down on the bed in my work clothes, and waited for you to leave. You cannot fight the Horsemen. You can only wait for them to pass over.
Or you can install an eight-foot, electrified, razor-wire topped fence around the property.
I'm considering it.
Oh Holly that sounds awful!
ReplyDeleteHowever, this was written so well I was laughing the entire time I was reading it!
I hope you have a good weekend.
That's self-control dude. Is that what being an adult is? Huh.
ReplyDeleteAlthough I have to admit I was really hoping for a slightly crazy outburst and crying contractors.
My condolences to the loss of your sanity during this difficult time.
ReplyDeleteBut it's good to see your sense of humour hasn't disappeared to! Hilarious post :')
You need to make a mashed potato devils tower
ReplyDelete