FIRE!!

 OK, I know one shouldn't yell "FIRE" in a crowded theater, but no harm on an uncrowded blog....

I don't know what I did to piss off the Fire Demons or the Gods of Electrical Appliances, but I have had a couple of interesting days...

Yesterday, while cleaning in the bedroom, I was attacking some dog/cat hair in the corner near the electrical outlet where two lamps are plugged in. The hair was wound around one of the cords and in the process of removing it BANG! And a blast of fire! and I'm knocked to the ground. Thankfully not electrocuted, but my hand burnt and blistering. I quickly unplugged the lamp and went to tend to my hand, which began bleeding as the blisters broke open...  Not a good day.

Lamp Cord

Then this morning while I was listening to a radio program about the "Curse of Lizzie Borden" (interesting!) and waiting for my coffee to brew, I saw a sudden flash of light in the kitchen and smelled smoke.

So I ran into the kitchen to see the coffee maker was on fire! I mean, flames were licking the back of the coffee maker and bursting in the air toward the ceiling. I quickly unplugged the thing and threw a towel over it which smothered the fire but the room was full of smoke.

 The back of the coffee maker was completely melted...

Spent a few hours airing out the house. Still smells. 

Tried to fix the cord and ended up blowing a fuse... I give up!

Just another day at The Pink House.

PS: Good news, my father should be coming home from the hospital today. Thanks everyone for your kind words and prayers!

Melted Coffee Maker

A Bit of a Set Back

I was doing really well, writing every day, swimming every day, Kona and I walking 1.5 miles each morning and feeling pretty good then...

My father was hospitalized last Monday with pneumonia. Since, under the hospital's "expert care", he's suffered two TIA's (mini-strokes) and a fall from his hospital bed. He's still there... 

I was walking Kona the other day, admiring the Halloween decorations (which I do love) and saw one house with a sign that read "DEAD and Breakfast" and "Vacancy".  I tell you, that stopped me in my tracks. All I could think of was how Bob died in his sleep, my sister died in her sleep and --- What's wrong with people? That is so NOT funny.

I asked my grief counselor if I was overly sensitive, but she said that a lot of her clients have similar reactions to some of the halloween decorations and the people who put up those making fun of death probably have never lost someone close to them... they just don't get it.

Anyway, worried about my father. Hoping he will be home soon, so that hospital can't damage him further... Missing Bob, terribly, as he loved Halloween and my birthday is the day after...  Hard to write lately, so been cleaning the house. (It needs it!) 

Prayers, please, for my dad, Les. Thanks. 

Back in the Saddle

I will admit that September was a rough month for me. First my sister's death anniversary, a grim reminder of how short life can be. Then our wedding anniversary, and on that day, it rained and rained and I wasn't able to get out to do the thing I wanted, which was walking around the lake with Kona... I was in a dark place.

The Harvest Moon was in late September. I heard about it on the morning weather and that night, I wanted to go out and see it. Unfortunately, it was raining, hard. No view of the moon from the front porch, so I went to the back porch. Nothing to see, but rain. I thought if I stepped out into the yard perhaps I could see the moon, but it might be obscured by clouds and I would certainly get drenched.

I sat down. Thinking about the rain, how much Bob loved a rainy night. Thinking about my sister, what legacy did she leave behind? Two children, yes, but her whole life seemed to be broken down into things: her house, her belongings and the greed I saw of some who came like vultures circling her "remains" and it all seemed so sad... I still wanted to see the moon, but the rain was unceasing. And I thought, well, I'll get wet. Then thought, call me crazy, but I have a high privacy fence and I glanced toward the neighbors and saw no lights on, so I went inside, striped off my clothes, wrapped myself in a bath towel, stepped out onto the porch then dropped the towel and stepped out into the rain. The pouring rain falling on me.

Feeling like something I can't describe and havn't felt in so long. Freedom? Love? Happiness? Joy, even.

I reach my hands into the air and turned my face to the sky and didn't see the moon, but stood there buck naked, drenched in the pouring rain feeling suddenly free and rebirthed and Bob felt so close to me at that moment, in the rain.

After that night, since that night, I have been writing almost every day for several hours. I haven't had a drop of alcohol (not that I have problem, but it was a way to numb the pain) I swim every day (up to 50 laps now) and walk the dog every morning an entire mile. I also cut my smoking back to about 9 cigs a day. Not quite ready to quit completely yet. I'm sleeping better. Feeling better. And wake in the morning, not dreading the day, but looking forward to it. I want very much to leave a legacy and not end up like my sister. The only way I can do that is through my writing. So this is what I'm concentrating on... This is what Bob wanted. This is my writing life.

Wish me luck to stay the course....

 

27 Years Ago

Today, I was the happiest woman in the world... and perhaps the sweatiest after our last dance. Happy Anniversary, Bob. Love you still and forever.

A Year Ago

In the middle of the night, my sister passed away in her sleep. Still hard to wrap my head around it. Only 64 years old.

RIP Karen, my "big sister".

 She is the one next to Bob in the back.

The Haunted AC and other fun stories....

Seems lately it's been one thing after another here at The Pink House. I had just had HVAC system replaced (because of repeated problems, leaking through the ceiling, etc.) with a brand new Trane and suddenly, after a big storm, the thing started going whacky. It was on cool, but blowing out hot air. The thermostat was set at 70 but the numbers kept going up and up. I called the AC guy who came over and discovered a loose wire which turned my AC into a heat pump. Said he'd never seen anything like it. Fixed that, only to have the same thing happen a week later. The AC guy comes back and this times finds that a compartment of the unit in the attic had broken off... very strange. He had to re-strap it together. A week later, it happened again. I called him and he told me to turn off the unit and he'd be there first thing in the morning.

Morning comes and he returns to find the compartment broken again. He re-straps it up then checks the freon and finds it's reading too high, actually reading higher than when he filled it the week before. Weird.

Now a bit of backtracking here: when he originally installed the machine, we were chit chatting and he'd asked if I was getting out much because of CoVid and I told him I wasn't and my church was closed for renovations. He asked what church that was, I told him about the spiritualist church I'd been going to.  

Back to the AC acting so strange. My AC guy tells me that in 30 years of business, he has never seen this many unexplainable weird problems and he truly, I mean truly, thinks the problem is that I visited with mediums and a negative energy had followed me home from my church, entered my house and a demonic force has possessed my AC system! He was dead serious...   

Well, I smudged the house with sage, just in case, though I highly doubt that's the problem.

After that, I am working at my desk (still dealing with my sister's estate crap) when suddenly the chair collapsed under me, one leg completely broken off. This is one of those oak 1920's office chairs with the swivel seat and casters. I love this chair, had it for years. Thank goodness Kona didn't get hurt as she was right next to me when I went down with the chair. I didn't get hurt either. I found two screws that had fallen out and got out a screwdriver from the hall closet and re-screwed the thing back together, but while I was putting the tools back in the closet, a whole bunch of stuff from the top shelf came tumbling down, right on top of me. A lump on head and a huge lump on my arm, and yes the same arm I injured when I broke my hand. Spent a few days with an ice pack on my arm... Still hurts.

Then I get a telephone message from someone claiming to be an "independent process server" threatening to take me court if I didn't resolve a certain matter within 24 hours. First thought this was another scam, but after contemplating it, as it was not a robot-call, but a real person with a local number, decided to return the call to find out what was up. Gave myself a pep talk first, i.e. I am in control, I will ask questions, I will not give them any personal information. Called the place, turns out the guy actually had my name, birthdate, SS#, address, everything! He told me this was about an unpaid Citi Bank card, taken out in 2007, and I told him that was impossible, asked him to hold, managed to find the file of debts that were paid off in 2014 by our attorney after our settlement, found a letter which acknowledged payment of a Citi card but the last four digits he gave me were one digit different. I read him the letter over the phone. He began reading me the full Citi Card number and I began reading it aloud along with him, it was the exact same number except his ended in a 0 and mine in a 5. I said, I would find that highly strange that I would've had two Citi cards with one different digit at the end. He agreed that would be strange and asked me to e-mail him a copy of the letter I just read and he would pin it as resolved until they received the documentation. Which I did. Phew!  Glad I called or might have been hauled off to court because someone made a typographical error.

Speaking of which, sorry for any typos. My hand still not working the best and of course now my arm hurts again. Grr....