A series of unpleasant events

By Helen Row Toews

January 10, 2018 12:59 PM

Ever had one of those days? A day that’s trouble from beginning to end? I experienced one a few weeks ago and decided to take you along for the whole miserable re-enactment. Lucky you.
It all began with a few harmless goodies I’d prepared the night before. They were chocolate and needed to chill, so I popped them outside, high on a shelf by the door.
Next morning I slipped out to start the bus and saw the container broken and empty, cookies strewn about hither and yon, while Chili (our dog) gnawed on one at the foot of the stairs. Sheesh, how fast can a dog work? She’d only been let out five minutes ago. I bent to wrench it from her slavering jaws.
Knowing chocolate isn’t good for dogs I felt relieved it was frozen solid and she hadn’t gotten much. Quickly I found the others and carried them all back inside – presumably. On my second attempt to leave, I could see the annoying hound lying on the driveway in the darkness; head bent, paws holding the morsel tightly as her teeth ground into yet another one.
Blast that dog! This time she was a little savvier. Reluctant to hand over her spoils, she capered off across the lawn, leading me in a time-honored game of, “Catch Me If You Can, Stupid Human.”
At length, I wrestled it from her mouth with my bare hands and irritably carried the dripping mass back to the house. Carelessly, I glanced at it in the porch lights glow. “ACK!” I screeched, dropping the slimy, brown, hunk of CAT CRAP in revulsion. Horror number one.
Later that afternoon I pulled the bus back into my yard and sat for a moment, glad to be home. I reached into my pocket for the house key. Not there.
Tried my other pocket, tried my bag, and then tried each door. Nothing. Being the impatient person I am, I slumped onto the steps thinking of ways to break in (Patience is for chumps) .
With a sudden grin lighting my face, I marched to the shed and lugged back a 20 foot ladder. It slammed against the eves with a crunch, but all appeared well. My thoughts flooded with happy visions of easily reaching out to slide open the window and nimbly clambering inside. It was not to be.
Unless I was prepared to launch myself into mid-air and bridge a gap of about five feet from ladder to window, it wasn’t going to happen. Plus, it would be a cute trick to hover there, defying the laws of gravity, whilst working the window open prior to entry.
Next plan was to hike over to dad’s and find a shorter ladder in the shop. The door was unlocked which was odd, but handy. I pushed it open a crack. “Hellooo,” I called, not wishing to startle the men as they laboured over machinery repairs.
No answer. I pushed the door open a little further, stepped in and fumbled for the switch. Flipping it on I looked up to seek my prize and met the wide, accusing glare of a dead deer suspended by his heels from the tines of a bale handler. “AAAH!” I screamed, lunging back in alarm and tumbling into a pile of used tractor rags. Then, in a stiff breeze from the door, the carcass began to sway sadly back and forth; its bulbous eyes following my every move. With a tortured moan I rushed from the building, slammed the door, and leant on the wall outside to calm my racing heart. Drat that Chris and his evil, hunting ways. Horror number two.
“Hey,” I thought, brightening a bit as I trudged back to dad’s. (I’d given up on the break and enter thing once the horned spectre of death stared me down.) “I’ll find the Christmas decorations while I wait.”
Each year I store several large boxes of them up in dad’s attic since I don’t have room. Mounting the steep staircase, I began dragging the cumbersome tubs to the door; checking each one. It was as I tore the lid off the second box that a putrid odor began to penetrate the room. “What the heck?” I exclaimed, unwisely rummaging through it.
Each item was pulled forth and immediately set aside in a choking cloud of rot. Finally, I dragged up a handily tied grocery bag and lifted it for inspection. “Oh no,” I said grimly, casting my thoughts backward in time to a cold winter’s day last January. Back to a day when the tree had been dismantled, decorations packed and I’d uttered several key words, “Tom, have you seen the tub of ice cream and pound of bacon I just bought? How could they vanish into thin air?” Now, I knew how. Horror number three.
So there you have it. Pretty horrid right? However, apart from my decorations, there really wasn’t any harm done. Unless, of course, you count the irreparable damage done to my delicate psyche.

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