It's no secret that unexplained incidents happen frequently at the Mansion. Aside from the nightly footsteps that nobody admits to up above my head after Farmer H and The Pony go to bed...not much has gone on lately.
Friday evening, as I was sitting on...the...um...THRONE...in the NASCAR bathroom on the other side of the inner wall of my dark basement lair...I noticed that something was out of place. It was a Certificate of Authenticity for some 12-car collection, propped behind a yellow #4 Kodak racecar, and a car still in its box. They were on a little shelf above the sink.
There is no wind in the basement, unless The Pony is fanning that door maniacally as he enters and leaves. And a draft from a door won't move a metal car in a box. I don't recall any earthquake tremors. That's the first thing I thought of. The New Madrid Fault has been behaving itself. So I asked The Pony, in case he had not.
"Have you been slamming the bathroom door?"
"What?"
"The door down here on the bathroom. Have you been slamming it so there's a wind?"
"Noooo...why would I do that?"
"I don't know. But I noticed that certificate is falling over, and there's a car out of place on that little shelf."
"By the sink? I haven't told you this...but I was sitting on the toilet one day, and a car AND that certificate fell off the shelf! And I didn't do ANYTHING! I was just sitting there, and it happened all at once!"
"That certificate of authenticity? It fell all the way down?"
"Uh huh. And that car it was behind. That yellow one."
"Huh. I was sitting there, and saw that the certificate is leaning on the yellow car. The #4 Kodak. But the car next to it in the box is sticking out over the edge of the shelf."
"I don't know WHAT'S going on. But it wasn't ME!"
Yeah. I don't think it was.
3 comments:
Maybe you should move your lair upstairs ....
It sounds like you have a poltergeist living at your house. If that IS the case, if I were you, I'd let them have their own bathroom... and I would use the one upstairs.
Kathy,
Then Farmer H would have more access to me, and I'd be always listening to his tales and expected to admire his puttering projects.
****
Sioux,
But the one upstairs seats Farmer H's butt...and you know what THAT means!
Post a Comment