|House had contemplated running down those stairs so many times, but there was always someone watching.|
"Ranch flavored rice cakes. Like paper, only ranchier."
Instead of telling you what I'm eating, from now on I'll just be shooting really questionable taglines your way.
Things have been a little busy around the Split-level lately, primarily due to the fact our home is slowly but surely sinking into the ground, with possible plans to implode. We first discovered this problem last November, and, being the prompt people with absolutely no self-preservation instinct that we are, have decided to fix it a year later.
The first day of this month was spent Googling, "How to lift a house off the ground using only leg muscles, will power, and a spatula." They say you can find anything on the internet, but I'm here to tell you Yahoo Answers came up a little short, so I began scheduling foundation specialists instead. They were all quick to comply, and soon I had four of them lined up and ready to see our little spectacle.
So far, we've entertained three guests, and, in a nutshell (or nuthouse ...however you want to look at it), this is where we stand so far:
"From what I can tell, the front of the house seems to be running away from the back of the house."
"I see. So, putting it in layman's terms, the front of the house is really the Tina in an unfortunate Ike and Tina situation."
"Exactly. It really is terrible what's happened here. Bad things happening to good people and all that."
"What you're saying is this will be a cheap repair?"
"It really is too bad."
"I'll wait for your estimate. I'm sorry my child yelled at you for scaring the cat with your tape measure."
"Good afternoon, I'm Dave."
"Is that Dave spelled with two "a"s?"
"Sorry, I was just trying to lighten the mood before you gave me horrible news."
"Mrs. Kellerman, is there somewhere we could sit down?"
"Yes, just push a child out of the way and make some space. Pay no heed to the one trying to pick your pocket."
"It's ok, I have a five month old. But, here's the thing. This job is going to cost somewhere around twenty thousand."
"Are you sure you don't mean twenty thousand dragaloons?"
"What's a dragaloon?"
"An imaginary system of currency I made up, which translates, roughly, into five American dollars."
"And, Dave, I'm sorry to tell you that five-month-old will soon be sticking her hand in an outlet, like my kid over there."
"Did the other two guys tell you about ripping out the front porch?"
"Read my face. What is my face telling you?"
"I'll draw up some plans and get back to you."
"I'm sorry my kids sat on top of you while you took measurements. You may also want to subtract ten thousand dollars so you know everything's accurate."
We have one more person arriving on Monday to give us bad news, so the weekend will virtually be saturated with anticipation. On the bright side, please look forward to a series of posts on the most efficient way to sell a kidney and peddle imitation purses out of the back of your vehicle.
Oh, and if we have to go with plan b, sell the house to a flipper, and join the first traveling circus passing through, that should make fairly interesting reading as well.
Until Next Time, Readers!