Day 63
Groundhog Day.
I’ve certainly been here before.
This morning I tried to start the preliminary work for continuing the decorating.
The operative word in that sentence is ‘tried’. Before I even think about stripping wallpaper or sanding woodwork I have to clean out all the crap. I should point out that this particular room hasn’t been used for its intended purpose in ages. Therefore, mother-in-law and Mrs. Snowman have converted it into a storeroom. Once more though, ‘storeroom’ is a misnomer; it might be better described as a shit pit.
It wouldn’t be so bad if the collection of crap had been stacked neatly or stored in cardboard boxes but everything had been randomly flung into the room without any regard for the poor bastard who had to actually venture in there…i.e.: me.
After a couple of attempts to open the door I eventually managed it by placing my shoulder against the woodwork and pushing it ajar like a forced entry by a SWAT team.
When Howard Carter first broke though the seal on Tutankhamen’s tomb, he was faced with three and a half thousand years worth of grime. The same kind of thing greeted me but without the golden ornaments.
Indeed, Carter’s first words on seeing the treasure room after breaking a small view hole in the wall were supposedly:
“I can see wonderful things”
My reaction wasn’t quite as ecstatic. It was closer to:
“I can see…what the fuck…?”
I guess the best image I can give you is from “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”. Remember the scene when Richard Dreyfus tips all the crap from his garbage cans into his living room to make a six-foot model of Devils Tower? It was similar to that, only more messy.
My only option is to fill several carloads and take it to the local dump but this presents me with another problem. Neither the mother-in-law nor Mrs. Snowman want to throw anything out. So far I’ve accumulated six boxes and I still haven’t reached the first wall.
I have a feeling this is going to be a long process, which is something I would prefer to have at the online poker tables.
As my recent performances have been less than inspiring, I have decided on another course of action to further my quest for glory.
I took a couple of hours to practice at the play money tables on the assumption that if I could improve my game there, I would stand a better chance when it came to sitting down with real cash.
Astonishingly, there are very few donkeys at these tables and advice is handed out freely - some good, some rubbish. I intend to do this again tomorrow morning before sitting down with my newly found knowledge and winning a couple of freerolls at a stroll.
I’m brimming with confidence and rubbing my hands together with anticipation.
There was one other occurrence today that involved the cat.
I’m sure you’ve realized that the animal has been quiet for the last few days, as it hasn’t featured prominently in these pages but that may just be because it’s constructing a plan.
I’ve noticed recently that a number of my socks have been mysteriously disappearing.
I automatically assumed that Mrs. Snowman had something to do with it by deliberately putting odd socks in my underwear drawer thereby leaving me to wear a different color one on each foot.
I wandered downstairs to the kitchen during the night to get myself a drink and saw the cat pawing at the radiator. Mrs. Snowman tends to leave them hanging over the heaters when there’s no space left in the utility room in order for them to dry.
The beast shot past me with my sock in its mouth.
The little bastard has been stealing them.
I’ve since discovered five of them secreted in various locations around the house.
This is not a problem the mother-in-law has. When she needs to find one of her socks, she just has to whistle and they come scampering to her of their own accord.
I dread to think what she does to get her knickers.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $0
I’ve certainly been here before.
This morning I tried to start the preliminary work for continuing the decorating.
The operative word in that sentence is ‘tried’. Before I even think about stripping wallpaper or sanding woodwork I have to clean out all the crap. I should point out that this particular room hasn’t been used for its intended purpose in ages. Therefore, mother-in-law and Mrs. Snowman have converted it into a storeroom. Once more though, ‘storeroom’ is a misnomer; it might be better described as a shit pit.
It wouldn’t be so bad if the collection of crap had been stacked neatly or stored in cardboard boxes but everything had been randomly flung into the room without any regard for the poor bastard who had to actually venture in there…i.e.: me.
After a couple of attempts to open the door I eventually managed it by placing my shoulder against the woodwork and pushing it ajar like a forced entry by a SWAT team.
When Howard Carter first broke though the seal on Tutankhamen’s tomb, he was faced with three and a half thousand years worth of grime. The same kind of thing greeted me but without the golden ornaments.
Indeed, Carter’s first words on seeing the treasure room after breaking a small view hole in the wall were supposedly:
“I can see wonderful things”
My reaction wasn’t quite as ecstatic. It was closer to:
“I can see…what the fuck…?”
I guess the best image I can give you is from “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”. Remember the scene when Richard Dreyfus tips all the crap from his garbage cans into his living room to make a six-foot model of Devils Tower? It was similar to that, only more messy.
My only option is to fill several carloads and take it to the local dump but this presents me with another problem. Neither the mother-in-law nor Mrs. Snowman want to throw anything out. So far I’ve accumulated six boxes and I still haven’t reached the first wall.
I have a feeling this is going to be a long process, which is something I would prefer to have at the online poker tables.
As my recent performances have been less than inspiring, I have decided on another course of action to further my quest for glory.
I took a couple of hours to practice at the play money tables on the assumption that if I could improve my game there, I would stand a better chance when it came to sitting down with real cash.
Astonishingly, there are very few donkeys at these tables and advice is handed out freely - some good, some rubbish. I intend to do this again tomorrow morning before sitting down with my newly found knowledge and winning a couple of freerolls at a stroll.
I’m brimming with confidence and rubbing my hands together with anticipation.
There was one other occurrence today that involved the cat.
I’m sure you’ve realized that the animal has been quiet for the last few days, as it hasn’t featured prominently in these pages but that may just be because it’s constructing a plan.
I’ve noticed recently that a number of my socks have been mysteriously disappearing.
I automatically assumed that Mrs. Snowman had something to do with it by deliberately putting odd socks in my underwear drawer thereby leaving me to wear a different color one on each foot.
I wandered downstairs to the kitchen during the night to get myself a drink and saw the cat pawing at the radiator. Mrs. Snowman tends to leave them hanging over the heaters when there’s no space left in the utility room in order for them to dry.
The beast shot past me with my sock in its mouth.
The little bastard has been stealing them.
I’ve since discovered five of them secreted in various locations around the house.
This is not a problem the mother-in-law has. When she needs to find one of her socks, she just has to whistle and they come scampering to her of their own accord.
I dread to think what she does to get her knickers.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $0