the great quilting disaster / ark building projects of 2005
and i thought i had a bizarre week last week: dear mum marge manages to trump me with quilitng and plumbing issues, here-to-forth known as the great quilting disaster / ark building projects of 2005.
mum (calling me on the cel, sunday afternoon): 'did you talk to your brother? all is fine, i'm well.'
me: 'oh sweetie, you're not well, never been a day since i was a kid.'
'don't be fresh.'
'what ARE you talking about?'
'well, your poor mother nearly lost a finger with the quilting.'
'you lost a what with the what?'
'you know that pizza cutter-looking tool i use to cut the squares? sliced it into the spot between the pointer and middle fingers.'
'jesus, were you drunk or over-caffeinated?'
'don't be fresh. i had to get eight stitches.'
'oh, peanut, that is terrible! are you ok? nerve damage?'
'no, i'm fine. but you should have seen me shooting up the street in the rental i can't figure out, holding up my clothed fingers like i'm being lewd careening toward the emergency room.'
'you couldn't have called [a neighbor or a friend]?'
'oh, i didn't want to bother them. and don't you know, the p. a. who worked on me was a former student.'
'most of the island is, dear.'
'true. and the rains did a job on us.'
'oh no. the poor dogs must be floating away.'
'don't you know, the poor dears. there we are, watching suze orman together...'
'wait, you make the dogs watch suze orman?'
'they like her. anyway, i hear this frighteningly loud pop from the basement, go down, and the pipe that takes the water from the waterproofing to the sewer burst and was pouring water into the basement like a hydrant. the pressure must have been too much from a week of rains.'
'good lord, you have got to be kidding me. did you call [plumber guy who installed the waterproofing.]'
'yeah, he was great. he said he's never seen anything like this in the twenty years he's been in business. twenty-three inches of water in the basement in a half hour. it was a mess.'
'oh peanut...'
'but it's fine now. there i am with my bandaged, numbed up hand trying to scoop up water, even though the p. a. told me NOT to get it wet for twenty-four hours, the dogs are on the top steps cocking their heads, wondering what in the world i could be doing. it was a sight.'
'i think i might be sick. i could have come home to help, dear. you waited two days to tell me this why?'
'oh honey, you have things to do. i didn't want to bother you.'
mum (calling me on the cel, sunday afternoon): 'did you talk to your brother? all is fine, i'm well.'
me: 'oh sweetie, you're not well, never been a day since i was a kid.'
'don't be fresh.'
'what ARE you talking about?'
'well, your poor mother nearly lost a finger with the quilting.'
'you lost a what with the what?'
'you know that pizza cutter-looking tool i use to cut the squares? sliced it into the spot between the pointer and middle fingers.'
'jesus, were you drunk or over-caffeinated?'
'don't be fresh. i had to get eight stitches.'
'oh, peanut, that is terrible! are you ok? nerve damage?'
'no, i'm fine. but you should have seen me shooting up the street in the rental i can't figure out, holding up my clothed fingers like i'm being lewd careening toward the emergency room.'
'you couldn't have called [a neighbor or a friend]?'
'oh, i didn't want to bother them. and don't you know, the p. a. who worked on me was a former student.'
'most of the island is, dear.'
'true. and the rains did a job on us.'
'oh no. the poor dogs must be floating away.'
'don't you know, the poor dears. there we are, watching suze orman together...'
'wait, you make the dogs watch suze orman?'
'they like her. anyway, i hear this frighteningly loud pop from the basement, go down, and the pipe that takes the water from the waterproofing to the sewer burst and was pouring water into the basement like a hydrant. the pressure must have been too much from a week of rains.'
'good lord, you have got to be kidding me. did you call [plumber guy who installed the waterproofing.]'
'yeah, he was great. he said he's never seen anything like this in the twenty years he's been in business. twenty-three inches of water in the basement in a half hour. it was a mess.'
'oh peanut...'
'but it's fine now. there i am with my bandaged, numbed up hand trying to scoop up water, even though the p. a. told me NOT to get it wet for twenty-four hours, the dogs are on the top steps cocking their heads, wondering what in the world i could be doing. it was a sight.'
'i think i might be sick. i could have come home to help, dear. you waited two days to tell me this why?'
'oh honey, you have things to do. i didn't want to bother you.'
posted by tom at 8:23 AM
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