Everything Falls Apart
...provided that it is anywhere close to me. I don't know what my problem was this weekend, but apparently, I have caught some brand of funk that causes all things within my vicinity to disintegrate before my very eyes. Everything is breaking. House! Appliances! Dogs! Self! Every damn thing.
As for the house, the most interesting (well, relatively speaking) item to go was the pantry door. Now, that door is old, and it's been creaky for a while, but I really had not anticipated the spectacular door explosion that was in store for me. I thought it might just...I don't know. Sag gently to the ground one day, crumpling under the weight of its years in a sort of quiet, dignified submission. Kind of like the leaf book. It would go gently into that good night, and then we would bury it in the garden with the 1/3 of a bird I one time found in the bushes. (You do not want to know which 1/3.)
Anyway, So, that is what I thought. That was wrong, though.
In the end, the door decided to forego Freddie's example and instead opted to rage, rage against the dying of the light, because one second I was walking across the kitchen, having just put away some cans; the next second, I was jumping through the fucking CEILING as an enormous CRASH CLATTER BAM pierced the silence, frightening the dogs into a howling hysteria, and sending the contents of the pantry flying around the room with a Poltergeist-like enthusiasm. Turns out: doors do not crumple. They do not float gently to the floor. NO. They fall off their hinges and leap across the room in an attempt to flatten your ass. And they do this dramatically. And loudly.
Actually, now that I think about it, it was kind of like being fly-swatted. I have a feeling the door was aiming for somewhere between one and four dogs, who have spent countless hours scratching at its base, whimpering forlornly and chanting, "That is where the food lives! That is where the food lives!"
Yes, one to four dogs were probably the intended target. Missed, though.
Unsurprisingly, I have been whining about the door at length, to pretty much everyone, because it's going to be a massive pain in the ass to fix the thing. The holes are stripped, and so we're going to have to drill new holes for new screws and get a new plate-attaching thing, too, and yes, that is not THAT complicated, but in my world, anything involving an electric drill qualifies as an actual Project. And in my world, a Project cannot be performed without a minimum of seventy-four people. Most of whom are only there for the free Project Beer. One of whom actually knows what to do. And that one person is never, ever me.
So, while waiting for the team to assemble and drill new holes and whatnot, the door is now propped inside the doorway, with a handwritten sign warning everyone "NOT TOUCH DOOR FALLS BAM" because I couldn't find a pen and had to write it in the nub of a crayon. And that was all I could manage before the Burnt Sienna ran out. But I think it's descriptive. And onomatopoeic!
So, door. That was one thing. But the door's death leap was not half as exciting as when I myself fell apart before everyone's very eyes, because y'all, remember my fucking toe?
Well, it healed, and it doesn't hurt anymore or anything, but apparently...well. Apparently, it was not quite finished healing, I guess. Apparently, when I smooshed it in the door, the toenail got broken way down at the base. This I did not know. And this Dukay did not know. This was a little secret that my toe was keeping from everyone.
So, I've been tooling around with (what I thought to be) a complete toe, la de da, whatever. Until the other night, I was sitting in front of the fire, and I took off my boots and my socks, and I was rubbing some lotion onto my legs, when all of a sudden: my toenail fell off. The whole thing. Pop!
Dukay just happened to be watching me at the time.
"Ew," I said.
"AHHHHHHHHHHH," he shrieked, running hysterically from the room, arms flailing in the air.
He fell into a fetal position in the hallway, shuddering, and covered his eyes with his hands.
"BABY." he hollered . "YOUR TOENAIL JUST FELL OFF."
"Yeah," I said. "I guess it was, like, broken down there. That's gross, though, huh? Doesn't hurt."
"BABY." he continued. "THAT CANNOT BE HEALTHY WHEN PARTS OF YOU JUST FUCKING FALL OFF."
"Well, it's the toe I smooshed that time," I explained. "I think it's oka--"
"I THINK WE NEED TO GET YOU SOME VITAMINS."
"It's not vitamins, it's smoo..."
Eventually, I was able to convince poor Dukay that toenails don't typically fall off as a result of not getting enough calcium (although, hell. Maybe they do. If so: Shh!), and calmed him down to the degree that he was willing to join me again in the den. For the rest of the evening, though, he continued to send sidelong, shuddering glances at my foot.
"It's a naked toe," he whispered, scandalized. "I mean, it's...bald. That is the most disturbing thing I have ever seen."
"It is not that disturbing," I told him. "Come on. You've seen worse things! It's just a little t--"
"I cannot look away," he whispered. "O, the horror. The horror."
If you want to send Dukay into a full-body shudder, complete with screwed-up terror face, touch him with your little bald toe. Watch him squirm. Enjoy! I do!
Anyway. So those are two of the things that have fallen apart. Also acting suspiciously: the dishwasher, Gimmme's right foot, and the rear left window of my car. I suspect plotting. I suspect complicated planning sessions, including spreadsheets and synchronized watches, that take place while I am at work. And I am pretty sure that the door is masterminding it all.
Hope y'all are doing better that this, and that you don't lose any appendages as a result of reading. I am a dangerous woman! I cannot insure your safety! I can only promise not to touch you with my creepy, bald toe. And if I do, you have my permission to rage, rage against the side of my head.
Have a good week, everyone!
Speaking of toes (you know. Sure), our friend Mir has committed to walking for three days on her own [toes], in the Boston Breast Cancer 3-Day. It's a great cause, and if you can, I hope y'all will support her. I suspect it will result in good karma, and I have it on good authority that sponsors are generally not flattened to death by their own pantry doors.
P.P.S. Again: Also, for those of y'all who have emailed asking whether I've eaten the dogs or something, because how come do I not have any pictures up this week, huh? what, do you not love them anymore?, etc.: indeed, they have not been eaten (yet), and I have posted some new pictures (including some older pictures I came across; say hi to the Chaos!) on flickr; I'll be posting even more tonight or...you know. At some point. And then you can get your fill of doggie goodness, and the world will be a slightly better place.