Wednesday November 20th, 2013

The exercise:

Write about: the attic.

Made my last delivery of leeks of the year this afternoon, as the coffee shop in town we recently began supplying put in a big order for them. Quite pleased, both to have sold so many of them and to be done with them until next year.

We still have a few sugar pumpkins and a whole lot of potatoes to get rid of, but other than that we've done a pretty good job of selling what we grew. I know the restaurant will be wanting more potatoes, and the cafe sounded interested in them as well.

It turns out I'll be working before my Saturday shift after all, as I got a text this evening asking me to cover the 3 to 9 shift tomorrow night. 14 hours of work per week sounds about right to me for the winter, with a few shifts thrown in to help out with parties.

I'd say this job has worked out very well so far.

Mine:

The trap door leading to the attic of our new home had rusted shut some number of years before our purchase. We had wanted the inspector to go up there to have a look around, make sure there were no fire hazards or mold or rodents or bodies hidden away between the top floor and the roof.

The man, clearly to his great embarrassment, had been unable to force entry. He'd even called out a handyman to have a go at it but all they'd managed to accomplish was a bit of chipped paint and a couple of scratches on the hinges.

We'd been reluctant to sign the final contract without knowing what lurked in that space, but the seller had sworn on a stack of bibles that there was nothing up there, that the door was stuck because it hadn't been used since he'd cleared out his wife's possessions after her death. He promised that he'd left no item behind, not even a pen.

And the view from the back deck was out of this world. That might have had something to do with our decision to put pen to paper.

Now, though? Two weeks after moving in, one week after the noises began? Enough is enough. Me and this crowbar are finding a way in.

Failing that, there's always the stick of dynamite I found in the back corner of the garage...