Closeted

For anyone who doesn’t know yet, we’re in a house. A big, two-story house with a backyard, a scary basement, wood floors under the most disgusting carpeting I’ve ever pulled up, and pets: a doggie and a kitty. Right now, the Ganglebot is off at rehearsal, Ivanovich is upstairs getting some sleep before his third-shift job, Fishsticks is purring on the bed near him, Blue is curled up on the couch asleep (and pretending to be a good dog), and I’m wrapped in a blanket and sitting by our window. It’s cold out, and I feel slightly hung over, despite my lack of alcohol last night. We all spent the later part of the morning eating cinnamon toast (well, not Ivan) and watching the third season of Arrested Development – so good! how can it be over? – while guarding our breakfasts from Blue. Me gusta living here with these people and animals. Mucho.

But what surprises does this house have in store for us? We’ve already had a few, not counting the shellac on the floor where a previous owner couldn’t get cat pee out (that corner still smells pretty bad) and the many lightswitches that seem to connect to nothing. We were told before moving in that we have a ghost named Henry (or Harry – more on the ghost later), and we found a bat in the piano (perhaps that story, too – it’s just funny enough to tell again). Perhaps the best surprise yet happened before I got back. Gangles and Ivan were moving things in and poking around, and GB opened up a closet.
GB: Ivan?
IV: What?
GB: There’s a sword in the closet.
IV: [pause] What?
GB: There is a sword in the closet.
IV: Like . . . rapier or broadsword?
GB: Uhh – broadsword!
IV: Well, someone’s been fighting dragons!

I later found a short sword in another closet that matched the big one.

Gyarr!

And if I do figure out that it’s moonshine in those glass jugs in the basement, I’ll hold a tasting. Mmm, fifty-year-old moonshine. I wonder whose bathtub it was made in.