18 July 2007
Look at my pleasant little grey cat:
I wonder how big she'll get? Her paws look huge in this photo, but she's already ten months old and went through heat once before she was spayed. She's certainly... plumper than when I got her. Booty, on the other hand, is looking a bit too svelte these days. I bought him a can of premium tuna today (no added salt), what with four-foot-long tuna fishes being the house cat's natural prey and all. Well, eating tinned tuna certainly seems to come naturally, anyway.
But enough about dumb old cats! This post is actually about my scary basement! The house, as you may recall, was built in two phases. The front half is from 1917, and the back was added in '52 or so. The basement underneath the newer half is pleasant enough. Unfinished, and like an old basement in every way, but not particularly menacing. The older half isn't even so bad, just a bit darker and gloomier (that's where I have to do my laundry).
But then there's the extra bit of basement underneath the front porch. It's separated by a sliding plastic curtain (printed with wood grain, because that's going to fool everybody!), and I'm sure there are colonies of various creatures nesting in there. I never even look in there -- or rather, I would never look in there, except that I desperately want this to be brought out and cleaned up and painted, so I can use it upstairs.
Clearly, I cannot do this for a number of reasons. Mainly, the fact that I refuse to put my body in that room. I used a hand saw to pull back the curtain (and kept it at the ready in case I needed to saw anything to death), sent Minnie in to draw the attention of any attack spiders, and then stuck one arm in (with camera) to snap this shot.
Never mind that I didn't see a single creepy crawly while I was down there. Never mind that the room actually seemed a lot cleaner than I remembered, despite its being heavily cobwebbed. Even daring to look in there is to take a huge risk, because if I were to see, say, a giant centipede (shudder), I'd have to set light to the basement. And that would make living upstairs rather uncomfortable.
But if anybody wants to come over and fetch up this dresser for me, I'll pay you in zucchini. I'll be the one standing on a chair at the end of the driveway. With a book of matches. Just in case.
Just have your mother get it. Don't tell her there is anything creepy about the room and she won't think twice about it. I'd stay upstairs if I were you when she does it though and hold a broom so you can defend yourself in case unspeakable horrors begin crawling past her and up the stairs, that's what I'd do.
.d
posted by .d at July 19, 2007 06:07 PM
Hey! Why do I always have to be the brave one, Mr. Scared of a Little Snake Man?
posted by Momma at July 19, 2007 10:05 PM
you (and your parents) made me laugh! I think the dresser is worth the risk :D
posted by Gisela at July 20, 2007 02:23 PM
Not to freak you out any more, but . . . what might be lurking in the drawers?
Sorry.
(By the way, I just got my copy of the Crafter's Companion and am absolutely loving it. I'm going up north to the parental house next week and I'm bringing it along. Mom is a major crafter, too!
posted by anne at July 21, 2007 05:00 AM
This: try to imagine "u pulling back the curtain with a hand saw" made my morning. and being ready to saw anything to death. when u can't even touch the curtain-I imagine u running like the sister in faris buelers day off when the principal breaks into the house-OMG u should write a book about this: the adventers of the green dresser! muhaaaaaa
btw i think u can do it-just do it really fast-or inch by inch.
posted by row. at July 21, 2007 02:14 PM
Oh my god... that looks just like my cat, Ella!! I mean exactly--coloring-markings everything!!! They could be twins. She is 7 years old now... and big- (really long and thin)
posted by Connie at July 24, 2007 07:56 PM