Fall Fashions for Interior Home Designing

Thursday, October 23, 2008
5:30pm
At a undisclosed location, Twin Oaks

I didn't finish all I wanted to say last night, so here it is...

Yesterday (Wednesday) was crazy, it actually goes back to Tuesday afternoon though.

Tuesday afternoon I had some delicious stir-fry. It was so good, I was still tasting it later that night at work. Literally...
I think it was about 10:45pm when I lost it all over the men's restroom. I'm just glad I make it there (I was working in the cafe that night; I know, gross right?). Well I ended up finishing my shift at midnight, where I went home and promptly ate a hamburger from two days before, (listen, it was a combination of sleep-deprivation, a semi-state of starvation, and just plain stupidity). I lost the cow meat (that's to you Chick-fil-a, eat more chicken!), about a hour and a/half later, then spent the rest of the night (Wed morning) wrapped around the toilet base dryheaving. Rofl, last night I was talking about God's faithfulness...help! =)

My grandmother showed up at the house as planned at 8am sharp. I was going to help her paint one of the bedrooms in their new (empty) (where I'm sleeping) house. The bottom half was pink (we were painting it gold), and the top, burgundy (I was painting it RED) (notice the all caps) (yes, omens of impending doom, lol). So the first hour of painting went normal, my grandmother did the bottom, while I did the top on a ladder. It must be that just when we let our guard down, disaster strikes, because I had just gotten into a steady rhythm of painting with my eyes half-closed (remember my night), when I bumped into and knocked the ladder over.
(collective gasp)
Now that wouldn't have been such a big deal, except for that gallon of RED paint sitting of the top of aforementioned ladder...

I wish I had captured the moment in a series of still-shots. It would have shown the ladder tipping, and my valiant though ultimately futile dive to catch it. It would have shown the can of RED paint freefall off the ladder, bounce off the wall as in the background my grandmother mouthed the words in horror, "He's going to kill you!" (referring to my step-grandfather). It would have shown my second swan-dive to try and redeem myself, again to no avail. And finally, it would have shown the paint can splattering all over the carpet and myself as I slid to a halt into the wall trying desperately to reach home before being tagged out.

I'll tell you what, it didn't take that much imagination to see my blood spattered all over the wall and carpet instead of the red paint. I can't even tell you how many things were running through my mind; in the back somewhere I'm sure I was wondering just how I managed, after having the deadline pushed back to the end of the month, to screw that opportunity up. But at the moment, the primary thing I was thinking about was my childhood (?). I'm not sure why, but I guess that with my step-grandfather coming back that night from a elk hunting trip in Colorado, in which he was unable to even get a shot at anything, I figured that he would be frustrated already, and only need a excuse to start shooting at something.

As I'm writing this the next day, it's obvious he hasn't taken any potshots at me...yet (he still doesn't know), but seeing as my grandmother told all her friends (which happen to be his friends too) at the Wed night church meal, I'm sure it will only be a matter of days before he finds out from someone else. Which brings me to my current situation; you know how they say during disaster warning times, to always be in a state of readiness? And how the Boy-Scouts' motto is like "Always be prepared"? Well, I'm living out those two mantras right now.

See my plan is this, I already have my bags packed in the my car trunk for the most part, and the rest I keep right next to me. So if at anytime during the night I hear the screeching of brakes and tires, the slamming of a car door, and the audible sound of a shell being chambered, the I know my time in Dodge City is up. This is the best part though, see as he comes in through the kitchen/garage door, I slip out the front door (which I'm sleeping next to, he doesn't know that though...yeh, deviously sneaky, I know), load up my car, and take off.

Now if he boxes my parked car in with his truck, I can always make a run for the hills (my essentials are packed next to me), and just hide out until dark. I know, I know, you say that my plan isn't very realistic, that there's no way I can outrun a truck driven by a angry man with a gun. But I gotta tell you, that it's either that or here's to praying that pink carpet comes into style before he runs out of ammunition.

The reason he didn't see the paint stains earlier, is 'cuz when he came into the room, I had strategically placed newspapers covering the smaller ones, and I was sitting on the largest one. Oh, and remember what I said before about being sleepy that morning while painting? Well as someone who works in a cafe and sees people with terrible hang-overs everyday, I just have to say this; forget the espresso, just go dump some paint on your grandparents' carpet...