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If The Women Don't Find Yeh Handsome ...
May. 21st, 2012 08:50 amWhy I Was Late For Work On Saturday:
DAD: Hey, Amelia!
ME: Aaaagh! Don't come in! I am in a state of undress.
DAD: Fine, I'll holler through the door. But I need an opinion.
ME: I believe that the Star Wars prequels detract from George Lucas's original commitment to mythicism and remove the mystique of Darth Vader, and therefore do not count.
DAD: I need an opinion on the window in our back door.
ME: I'm for it!
DAD: Just put on some pants or something and come see.
So I got dressed and went out to see what had Dad so darn puzzled.
ME: Huh.
DAD: See what I mean?
ME: It appears to be … shattering.
DAD: Yes.
ME: How long has this been going on?
DAD: I'm not sure. I just noticed it a few minutes ago.
The back door was, indeed, shattering. In the progressive aspect. As we watched, an ever-denser network of cracks was crazing its way through one of the full-size panes. It was making an ominous noise, too.
BACK DOOR: Kk … kkk-kk … kkk …
ME: This can't possibly end well.
DAD: Any suggestions?
ME: I'll check the internet. Hey, internet! What do I do about cracking windows?
INTERNET: So you want to hack your Microsoft operating system, eh?
ME: What? No! I'm talking about windows slowly bursting into a thousand shards!
INTERNET: Oh, you're looking for XXX Mac/PC slash fiction!
ME: GOD DAMMIT I AM TALKING ABOUT AN ACTUAL WINDOW THAT IS ACTUALLY BREAKING.
INTERNET: Well, I have some legal forums with advice on tenant/landlord disputes pertaining to broken windows.
ME: That's closer, anyway …
INTERNET: Or there's always XXX tenant/landlord slash fiction!
ME: … The internet is no good, Dad. We're on our own.
BACK DOOR: Kk-kkk! Kk …
The window was bowing slightly now, and tiny grains of glass were sprinkling onto the porch. We supposed we could let it shatter by itself, but there was always the danger it would explode and make an awful and unsafe mess--especially not good if a certain cat decided to bang on the door to come in. And neither of us wanted to spend the afternoon in the emergency room digging glass out of our eyeballs, as might happen if it blew up at us. So we decided to do the most logical thing: cover it with a tarp and smash it ourselves.
BIG STICK: *thunk*
ME: You hit the wall.
DAD: THAT WAS A PRACTICE SWING. You concentrate on holding up the tarp.
ME: You want I should paint a bull's-eye on it?
BIG STICK: *BAM*
BACK DOOR: *CRASH tinkle*
ME: All right! Quick! Grab as much loot as you can--oh, right, we live here.
DAD: Please tell me I only got the outer pane.
ME: Inner one's still holding strong!
DAD: The precision of a surgeon, that's what I have!
ME: But you're terrible at breaking and entering.
We looked at the pile that used to be our back window.
ME: S'pose we ought to clean this up.
DAD: "We"? You're already late for work. You get to the library. I'll clean up.
ME: Absolutely. I leave the glass-handling to you, the surgeon whose entire livelihood is based on uninjured hands!
DAD: As it should be.
We're still not sure what broke the window. My theory is that the wooden frame has been warping for years, and the glass has been under stress, so that when something hit it on Saturday it was the last straw. But the way it shattered in slow motion was unexpected. At least we have another pane, so that thieves and murderers, and more to the point raccoons, can't get in.
… Come to think of it, maybe it was the raccoons. Wouldn't put it past those little bastards.
DAD: Hey, Amelia!
ME: Aaaagh! Don't come in! I am in a state of undress.
DAD: Fine, I'll holler through the door. But I need an opinion.
ME: I believe that the Star Wars prequels detract from George Lucas's original commitment to mythicism and remove the mystique of Darth Vader, and therefore do not count.
DAD: I need an opinion on the window in our back door.
ME: I'm for it!
DAD: Just put on some pants or something and come see.
So I got dressed and went out to see what had Dad so darn puzzled.
ME: Huh.
DAD: See what I mean?
ME: It appears to be … shattering.
DAD: Yes.
ME: How long has this been going on?
DAD: I'm not sure. I just noticed it a few minutes ago.
The back door was, indeed, shattering. In the progressive aspect. As we watched, an ever-denser network of cracks was crazing its way through one of the full-size panes. It was making an ominous noise, too.
BACK DOOR: Kk … kkk-kk … kkk …
ME: This can't possibly end well.
DAD: Any suggestions?
ME: I'll check the internet. Hey, internet! What do I do about cracking windows?
INTERNET: So you want to hack your Microsoft operating system, eh?
ME: What? No! I'm talking about windows slowly bursting into a thousand shards!
INTERNET: Oh, you're looking for XXX Mac/PC slash fiction!
ME: GOD DAMMIT I AM TALKING ABOUT AN ACTUAL WINDOW THAT IS ACTUALLY BREAKING.
INTERNET: Well, I have some legal forums with advice on tenant/landlord disputes pertaining to broken windows.
ME: That's closer, anyway …
INTERNET: Or there's always XXX tenant/landlord slash fiction!
ME: … The internet is no good, Dad. We're on our own.
BACK DOOR: Kk-kkk! Kk …
The window was bowing slightly now, and tiny grains of glass were sprinkling onto the porch. We supposed we could let it shatter by itself, but there was always the danger it would explode and make an awful and unsafe mess--especially not good if a certain cat decided to bang on the door to come in. And neither of us wanted to spend the afternoon in the emergency room digging glass out of our eyeballs, as might happen if it blew up at us. So we decided to do the most logical thing: cover it with a tarp and smash it ourselves.
BIG STICK: *thunk*
ME: You hit the wall.
DAD: THAT WAS A PRACTICE SWING. You concentrate on holding up the tarp.
ME: You want I should paint a bull's-eye on it?
BIG STICK: *BAM*
BACK DOOR: *CRASH tinkle*
ME: All right! Quick! Grab as much loot as you can--oh, right, we live here.
DAD: Please tell me I only got the outer pane.
ME: Inner one's still holding strong!
DAD: The precision of a surgeon, that's what I have!
ME: But you're terrible at breaking and entering.
We looked at the pile that used to be our back window.
ME: S'pose we ought to clean this up.
DAD: "We"? You're already late for work. You get to the library. I'll clean up.
ME: Absolutely. I leave the glass-handling to you, the surgeon whose entire livelihood is based on uninjured hands!
DAD: As it should be.
We're still not sure what broke the window. My theory is that the wooden frame has been warping for years, and the glass has been under stress, so that when something hit it on Saturday it was the last straw. But the way it shattered in slow motion was unexpected. At least we have another pane, so that thieves and murderers, and more to the point raccoons, can't get in.
… Come to think of it, maybe it was the raccoons. Wouldn't put it past those little bastards.
