The Weaving Inn

Home to the knitting world's anti-Finisher. Kind of like the anti-Christ, but with a smaller following.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

But ... Where's My Medal?

Things have been pretty quiet around Chez Insanity ever since my next door neighbor, Moses The Rapist, moved out. In fact, it's been at least a year since I called the po-po because Bruce The Pedophile threatened to kill Andy because Andy was smacking Bruce's cat around. So I was tickled pink when last night's event took place.

Andy, fearing for his life.

I was sitting on the couch at approximately 10:20 (I've watched enough Law & Order episodes to know it's always important to record the time). First there was a CLUNK. Then there was a loud scraping sound. Then my lights flickered. Once. Maybe even twice. Then another loud scraping sound. Since I'm that neighbor, the one that always sticks her nose into everyone's business, I went outside on the walkway to investigate.

My dumbass neighbor had backed his pickup truck onto the power lines and they had gotten stuck on his bumper. "Turn left," his room mate yelled. SCRAPE. "More left." SCRAPE. This went on for a good 10 minutes. Finally the truck became unhooked.

Did I mention earlier that my lights had flickered? At least once. Maybe even twice? Clearly the structural integrity of the wires had been compromised. I needed to call 911!

The 911 operator was very nice and seemed just as concerned about my flickering lights as I was. Things kind of went downhill though after she patched me through to the operator for the fire department.

Fire Dept Op: Is anyone unconscious?

Me: Uh, no.

Fire Dept Op: Do you see any flames?

Me: Uh, no.

Fire Dept Op: How about arcing? Do you see electricity arcing from the wires?

Me: Did I mention my lights flickered?

Fire Dept Op: Are you at the scene and available to assist the firemen?

Me: Oh yes, definitely. I can ASSIST.

Obviously that statement is what turned the tide because within five minutes the fire department arrived. (Just one truck, I was hoping for at least two). I ran out TO ASSIST. "Over here, over here," I yelled, pointing at the wires. Two firemen approached cautiously. After all, this was a dangerous situation. Fireman #1 (who was wearing way too much cologne but perhaps it was to hide the smell of smoke) shone his flashlight on the wires. "Hmm," he said.

By this time, a number of my neighbors were peeking their heads out from behind their blinds. I smiled and waved reassuringly at them all, feeling a bit like a celebrity. "Don't panic, I'm ASSISTING," I mouthed.

It was then I heard Fireman #2 say, "Hey, Mike, check it out. It looks like a bit of this pavement is broken." Fireman #1 kicked a piece of asphalt, measuring at least 2 inches (again, record the facts). "Hmm," said Fireman #1 (aka Mike). Vindication! Property damage! After checking out all the connections though, it was determined that everything was as it should be. I'm pretty sure it was due in part to my assisting.

So that was my evening. Once again, April saved the day. And stopped her lights from flickering.

3 Comments:

  • At 2:55 PM, Blogger trek said…

    Great way to ASSIST!

     
  • At 5:26 PM, Blogger Sheepish Annie said…

    Thank God you were there! You should see about getting a Professional Assisting Certificate or something. This could be a whole new career...

     
  • At 6:36 PM, Anonymous 2paw said…

    Oh: Assist!! Way to go, it is all (what I imagine to be ) basketball style!!
    Good neighbours are gold!!!

     

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