I woke up this morning to pounding. And the roaring of lions. And hammers. And Lord knows whatever circus-leaving sounds. Six in the morning! Argh!
But, they are gone. Never did pay us for the electricity, though they swear they fixed it so they didn’t use our power. We’ll find out when we get our bill, I suppose.
After my last post, my amazingly funny friend Jeanne sent this to me:
Sorry about the house. And the circus. Maybe you should go down there and show them your fancy dancing, and they’ll hire you, and then you can sneak into the power center and sabotage all their electricity, setting it to explode in fireworks at the end of your dance number, after which you will yell “haHA!” and jump off the stage onto a trampoline that will send you flying through the air and into the second-story window of your house, where Patrick will be waiting to catch you in a net. That seems like the most practical way to handle it.
Jeanne, I love you! I only wish I could’ve shown them my fancy moves, but alas, I was being holy and hosting a Bible study instead.