Scary Stuff

So I went to the house yesterday and swept out the "shop" (the outbuilding that needed painting in order for the loan to be approved). This was a pretty yucky job, despite having preliminarily having swept it out once before. The cobwebs were bad enough, but the dead bees ... they were in every nook and cranny. There were a bazillion screws sticking out of the walls that used to hold different tools and things, I'm sure. And there were stickers identifying different sizes, etc. The stickers have been there forever so they were near impossible to even scrape off. The screws ... they were all different kinds. Nails, too. Everywhere. String hanging off nails. Not sure why. A pencil sharpener screwed to the wall ... the kind you would have seen in schools years ago. I should have saved it, but it went in the trash with a bazillion other little parts and things I unscrewed from the walls. So then I practiced scraping the walls and spackling. Spackling will take some time to "finesse" ... but I'll get it.

The guy who is going to be removing the giant tree in the front of my house came by with his wife (who does window coverings professionally for a living) and son and assessed the tree. They left and said they would be back on Monday or Tuesday with a boom or a lift so they can safely take the tree down. I got a copy of their liability insurance in case anything happens. Nice that they are happy to do it for the wood alone. I will rest easier knowing the dead tree won't fall on the house in the wind. And the wind in this area can really whip.

So about 3:30 ... I cracked open a beer ... cranked up the music ... and started to wipe the walls down with a wet rag so I can get the rest of the dust off. I was standing at one end of the work bench and looked down to the other end and saw ... yes, a live bee. I don't understand it. I just sucked everything out from over there. Where are they coming from? Are they in the walls? So I am now getting the creeps all over again. Made a mental note to call the realtor and ask him to call the seller to find out how the hundreds of bees that were in here got dead. Did someone just spray some nasty stuff on the ones they could see and it killed them? Or did they have a professional exterminator come in? I thought about taking the claw to the hammer and opening up one of the walls ... when a figure appeared in the doorway! (Remember I had the radio blasting.) I screamed and damn near fell off the step stool I was on! It was that uncontrollable scream. I was still screaming long after I saw it was Kirk, but now I was just screaming obscenities and throwing my wet rag at him. He didn't try to scare me, but it's kind of like when you sneak up behind someone, and they never hear you. Now you're standing behind them, and it doesn't matter what you do, you're screwed and the person is going to be pissed. LOL! Poor Kirk.

So I showed him around a bit, we chatted, had a couple of beers and took off. I went home and showered (thankfully!) and went down to Marsing for a beer and a bite to eat. Sitting in the bar by myself, watching who walks in, the crowd interact, etc. I am starting to figure out who the locals are. One guy, we'll call him "Fred" ... was quite drunk. He would stand, wobble, then lean against the bar, and hit on whatever woman happened to be next to him ... to the point they would either walk away or leave. I was sitting at a small table that had 4 chairs total. I was sitting in one and pulled the other close to me and put my sweatshirt on it. I ordered a beer and a BLT. While I am eating my food, I am watching "Fred" wobble around the bar, slamming drinks. He sat with some "friends" of his ... a guy with his wife ... when another gentleman with a fantastic smile came in and sat with them. This guy was tall and thin, dirty blonde hair, had obviously been working all day and looked quite yummy, despite that I normally don't like thin men. Anyway, we'll call him "Tim." So, Fred would join them while those three were eating, and then he would saunter back up to the bar. Tim and the couple would talk about how wasted Fred was. I was within earshot and could watch this all unfold. Fred would walk back over to Tim and tell Tim, "Who loves you, man?" ... or "I love you, man!" ... and say, "So where the hell have you been?" ... as if he could carry on a conversation. He was clearly beyond that point.

After the couple and Tim gone done eating, they left. As did many other people. So now Fred was at the bar talking to another couple of guys. Each time a woman would come in and stand at the bar and order a drink, Fred was hot on it and would go over and talk to her. She would leave. And ... then it happened.

He looked over and saw me. Damn.

And here he comes.

I'm sitting by myself so I might as well had a target on my head.

He sits in the chair that I had pulled close to me, he's now fully leaned up on me, looks at me and says, "Who loves you, man?" and spits while he talks! Unbelievable. And the stench. OMG. He proceeds to repeatedly tell me how drunk he is, and ask me 16 different ways to take him home, to sleep with him, to take him somewhere and have my way with him. I told him that I wasn't looking for a man, but was simply coming in for a bite to eat, but that if I was, he would certainly be my choice. LMAO!

He sauntered off, and thankfully the waitress showed up so I could end this particularly long part of my evening, and I made her stand between me and "Fred" so Fred couldn't see me paying and leaving. And I managed a Fredless escape. Whew.

Went home and crashed.

The sun is up now, so I'm off to paint the inside of the shop. I'll see if I can take some photos.

Oh, Rhonda, I have the people you recommended coming out on Monday to see if they can get a signal so I can get online. I'll let you know how it goes.

Jodi