This afternoon, when the Significant Other walked in, he found me knee-deep in boxes.
“Look!” I said, holding up my precious find.
“It’s our Christmas wreath, silly.”
“And how many hours did you spend looking for that ratty thing?”
“Ratty? Nowadays they call items like this ‘vintage’.”
“Seriously? It looks like something you found by the side of the road.”
“Mock if you must. But this ‘ratty’ wreath is the first item that will decorate our home. Later this evening, you can string lights on the door. It’s time we got this party started!”
And that’s when I saw him snicker.
Ignoring his behavior, I grabbed the wreath and threw open the door.
And this is what I saw.
As I stood there with my mouth agape, I heard the Significant Other shout, “Where exactly are we stringing the lights?”
Biting my tongue, so I wouldn’t tell him exactly where he could string the lights, I surveyed the area.
Suddenly, I recalled the pounding and scraping I had heard in the morning.
Yet, I would never have thought that just a few hours later, we’d be living in a condemned building.
On closer inspection, I noticed that while the missing tiles and cardboard steps were bad, the stench was ten times worse.
I’d only been outside a few minutes and already I was lightheaded.
“Come inside before you get high,”
“What the hell happened out there?”
“They shoved a note in our mailbox notifying us that the Coop decided it was a good time to renovate.”
” It’s seventeen days to Christmas! How can this be a good time to renovate?”
“Look at it this way, this year we don’t have to fight over the fact that it’s March and the Christmas lights are still up.”
“What’s with the blue paint smeared on the walls? It looks like a whole village of Smurfs puked out there!”
“I think it’s glue. As in the glue that’s emitting fumes that’s giving Roxy and me a buzz.”
“And why are the stairs layered with duct taped pieces of cardboard?”
“Shouldn’t you be asking why the neighbor’s snowman is doing the horizontal mambo with the broom?”
“And the paint blotches on the floor?”
“A Smurf bled out. Close the door!”
Not bothering to reply, I grabbed Roxy and headed downstairs.
After breathing paint fumes, we were long overdue for a walk.
Yet upon exiting the building, this is what we found parked outside.
The Smurf getaway car?
Yes, folks, mama said there’d be days like this.
Note: If you haven’t read the post about the neighbor’s snowman and want to know what his story is, click on the link!