Hey, You're Right, I'm Not a Whiner! And to Prove It, Here Is a Story That I COULD Be Mad about, But Instead I Find Totally Effing Hilarious. With a Random Techno-Question Thrown in, Too.

Even though I don't have any obligations during the day, I try to keep a routine.  Structure comforts me. 

One of the more enjoyable parts of the routine is blasting my favorite Southern Rock mix CD at eardrum-shattering volume.  I have to do this during the day, because That CD cannot be listened to in the presence of Boyfriend, something about my ex-boyfriend making it for me and naming it the Love You Forever Mix blah blah blah (you can't blame the guy for having good taste in music and women!).  Then I pick Hank up, and we dance to the Black Crowes' "Hard to Handle."*  Well, I dance, and he looks down at Cooper with a look that clearly says, "See, she likes me better.  Off to the pound with you!"

Now, whenever the song comes on, Hank gets very excited and begs to be picked up (Did I mention my dog is terrifyingly smart, and I do believe I am just a patsy in his Grand Scheme to Conquer the Universe?).  On the day in question, the song started playing right after I got out of the shower.  But Hank gave me that look, That Look which works like kryptonite on me.  So, clad in my bra and panties, I picked him up and we danced.

If there could be a worse time for the maintenance man to walk in, I can't think of one.  I screamed at him for not knocking, since he knows I am home during the day.  He said he did knock, but apparently the 170-decibel music drowned it out.

"Your neighbor said you might have a fire on your balcony."

Shocked, we ran to the balcony.  I should mention that at this point I was still in bra and panties only, I mean when someone says you have a fire somewhere, your first thought isn't, "Hold on, let me grab a tracksuit."  I did keep the dog across my chest for modesty, though.

Don't worry, there was not a fire.  There was just a cloud of black, billowing smoke from an unextinguished cigar (Boyfriend sometimes smokes one in the morning) which caused the ashtray to become a smoldering stinkbomb.  He ran to get a bucket of water, since I was not properly attired for running frantically with a heavy load.  Once the smoke cleared, there it was.

A huge fucking gaping hole in my balcony.  An ashtray-sized hole.  A four-inch diameter piece of wood, vanished.

The maintenance man left hastily, god bless him.  I called Boyfriend frantically, to see if we can speed up the whole moving-out-of-this-mortifying-place thing. 

"The maintenance guy saw me naked and there is a hole in our balcony!!"  After a considerable pause, I added, "Those two things aren't related."

I am getting a job to pay for the balcony.  And we are calling the real estate agent to see if a short sale is possible.

Good ol' things that come by the dozen

That ain't nothing but drugstore lovin

Hey pretty thing, let me light your candle

Cause mama I'm sure hard to handle now, yes I am

* If you don't know the song (because you live on another planet?) or haven't heard it in a while, DOWNLOAD IT IMMEDIATELY.  You won't regret it.

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And a totally random question to end the night.  Does anyone know how to have a link to a picture instead of showing the picture itself?  Julie always does this and I am so very jealous.  Nerds, reveal thyself!  And email me.  Oh, and can you tell me how to write like her as well?  That would be very helpful.

Comments

[Louise]

I too would like to learn that trick, and should before I post my garden pics.

COME ON PEOPLE. HELP US OUT!!!!

[Jen]

I have to say, your story did make me laugh a bit. I could just see you holding hank up for protection so mantanence man does not see any more of your already naked body! So sorry about the hole in the balcony, you really do need to get the heck out of there.

[Jessica]

Ooh ooh I'm a geek--the code for linking to pictures is more or less the same as for any other kind of link--you just have to have the picture uploaded to a web directory, then type [Left angle bracket]a href[equals]"path to picture/filename.file extension"[right angle bracket]Text you want to link[left angle bracket]/a[right angle bracket] (stupid typepad trying to interpret junk html).The path will depend on Typepad's directory structure, which I do not know (host my own from home blah blah won't tell you where it is, don't want that kind of traffic). Some people get Flickr accounts for image hosting.

And that's hilarious, with the partial nudity, dog-dancing, and small fire

[Noelle]

I, too, am a geek... but Jessica beat me to it! If you want to see the non-edited-for-Typepad-comments version of that code snippet, email me and I'll email it to you. It looks a little more normal when you can actually use the brackets. :)

Anyway, hope you get out of there soon! Think how lovely it will be to have your own house to dance around with Hank in.

[Jeannette]

That is a darn funny story! That is exactly what I want to see when I am dancing with my dog in my underwear -- the maintenance man in my ouse unannounced. Wait -- I don't dance in my underwear with my dog. Hopefully that means I will never have a maintenance man in my house unannounced.

[Rae]

You rock, Jessica!