|I'll get you, Christmas.|
Because it's Christmas, because it's expected, and because we have company coming this weekend, I had to go under the house and retrieve the Xmas decorations.
To get to said Decorations, I had to go into the crawlspace.
You know those crawlspaces you see on HGTV with cement, floors, easy access, and incredible lighting? Well, mine is nothing like that.
My crawlspace is a dark, cramped and cold place, and as much as I may wish it was a doorway to Narnia, it isn't.
I treat a trip to the crawlspace like Indiana Jones treats a Peruvian Temple - with caution, guts, and at least two days stubble.
I avoided the traps and arrows (Bikes and Hockey sticks) and carefully opened the entrance to the tomb, where I was exposed to the dust and fetid air of a thousand years. (About 4 months.)
After insuring the area was safe, (no spiders) I proceeded into the dark, carefully crawling through the labyrinth of boxes, bales, and bundles until I spied my treasure. To my dismay I realized that like any other treasure, it was buried under what appeared to be eons of accumulated crap.
Have you ever tried to retrieve a fragile package or box that was underneath a a tonne of other fragile, breakable boxes? While you were on your knees? in the dark, with only a tiny flashlight? And without a whip or fedora? Indy had it easy with that whole bag of sand/idol thing.
(BTW, who had the brilliant idea of stacking all the fragile item boxes together? ...oh, wait - it was me. Seemed like a good idea at the time.)
Once my treasure was retrieved. I slowly and painfully made my way back to the glimmer of light at the entrance.
|She looked less amused than this.|
And just like Belloq greeted Indy as he exited the temple, there in the blinding light of the garage stood my Wife. Except unlike Belloq, she didn't take the coveted prize and run - All I got was a glace, a frown, and a "Wrong box.".
And I headed back into the breech once more....