Tuesday, February 19, 2008


From what we can tell, the couple that sold us our hovel made several curious lifestyle choices. One was to forgo the traditional ornamentation of crown molding and instead line the walls with 60 yards of nautical rope. Another was the room with white walls but a blue ceiling. However, chief among these unorthodox household decisions was the one that resulted in the birth of a son.

The unfortunate outcome of this choice was that every window blind within the grasp of his sticky, jelly covered hands was completely mangled. They looked liked 80’s women’s hair, the kind with all the kinks. (I assume the tool used to achieve this effect is called The Kinker. At least it should have been.) This family did us no favors by generously conveying the blinds to us when they left. Also, several plants.

After throwing out the plants and painting over the accursed blue ceiling, we decided our next move as new homeowners was to get new, non-kinked blinds. Naturally, it took us 8 months to get our act together and go to Home Despot. We went with white.

Two weeks and one hernia later the blinds were up. The old ones ended up the trunk of the G’s car and may still be there. But about twenty minutes after we put them into the window, we foolishly agreed to dog-sit my parent’s Black Dog. Obviously, the first thing he did was tear the shit out of them. My parent felt bad and offered to pay for the repair. All we had to do is send them back and give them the bill.

It should be a surprise to no one that we left them busted up for several months. Then we got Brown Dog. And the first thing he did when he moved in was take a big crap in the dining room. But the second thing he did was tear the EVER LIVING FUCK out of the rest of the blinds. Totally pwned them. My parents lawyered up on our sorry asses and claimed they couldn’t tell which dog destroyed which slat and we were on our own. When you pulled on the cord, only half of the blinds went up and the ones that were broken swung wildly out into the room. If you tried to turn the crank, it would jerk spastically and break off.

Fast forward 3½ years…

I finally did something about the eye sores this weekend. I stole a huge box from a post office loading bay, jerry rigged some packaging with $20 worth of duct tape and dragged it down to UPS. As we speak, they are on there way to Douglas, Arizona to get all respectable-like.

In the meantime, if you’re in the neighborhood, feel free to drop by and stare directly into the house. We normally keep our blinds closed, but as the G found out after the disastrous neighborhood baby shower she was invited to on Sunday (out of pity) this practice has caused most of our neighbors to think us rude and perhaps troll-ish. But there’s a new openness policy at the Pyggy house! Let the sun shine in! We may not even put the repaired blinds back up!

The front yard is fine for seeing most things that go on but if you go up the steps you can see right into the kitchen! What’s for dinner, you ask? Well, it’s bread made from the bones of an Englishman!

Stupid neighbors. I hope your babies are colicky and they get made fun of for being named Lance.

No comments: