Woman Suffocates Under Pile of Stuff

Click here to see here it all started.

Sunday morning I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath.  It could have been due to forgetting to use my asmtha puffers before bed.  It could have been due to the boxes and piles of dusty stuff that moved into our house on Saturday. It could have been the reaction to the dream I had where I was suffocating, pinned to the floor of my garage, and people kept stacking stuff on me.  It could have been some combination of the above.  After recovering my breath, I did what I usually do when I’m feeling overwhelmed.  I called Susan.  

Susan arrived a half hour later and relieved us of a campstove, a cookstand, a lantern and a plastic margarita serving set.  For some reason, she didn’t want a sixteen foot canoe or its accompanying toboggon.

I called the Boy Scouts of America and left another message for the local troop leader.  No response.

I called my boss about the electric mower (since he’d mentioned a need for one recently).  “No, thanks.” he said.

I asked two neighbors walking their dog if they needed a mower or other garden implements, or a hose or camping gear.  Blank looks and polite denials.  I didn’t have the strength to petition for the canoe.

I called the BSA leader again and left another message.

The pack of  roving Jehovah’s Witnesses declined any spontaneous donations, as did the representative from our homeowner’s association.  Although, she did remind us to have all the crap cleaned up by Monday morning.

I caught a glimpse of Cranky Frankie, my neighbor across the street, as he snuck out to retrieve the Sunday paper.  He declined any junk, and disavowed any knowledge of the HOA inspector’s visit.  Hmmm…. Not sure I believed him.

I ran inside to answer the phone, hoping it was the scouts with an enthusiastic acceptance of our donation.  It was my friend Tom, wanting to know if he could come by and see my neighbor’s “new” classic car, a ’54 Chevy Bel-Aire Coupe.  “Sure, come on over,” I told him.  “Would you happen to know anyone looking for an electric mower?” I asked, since I had him on the phone.  He replied that he’d think about it and let me know when he came by after he took his wife out to lunch.

I gave him about 30 minutes to get to a restaurant before I strapped the mower in the back of my truck and drove over to his house.  I called his house from a few blocks away to make sure no one was home.  Since he didn’t answer, I snuck into his gated community, tailgating behind an authorized visitor, and unloaded in his driveway.  And since he wasn’t there to protest, I gave him a posthole digger, a hoe, a manure fork, a seed-spreader, and 15 feet of lightweight garden hose.  It’s his problem to deal with now!

Tom and his wife had finished lunch and were in my garage checking out the remaining camping gear when I returned.  I walked them around the block to visit the neighbor’s Chevy as my husband filled the back of their unlocked Jeep Cherokee with a box of survival gear, a set of cheap wrenches, a Coleman lantern, and a 10′ by 10′ nylon tarp.  It’s their own fault for leaving their vehicle unlocked!  

The people kitty-corner from us picked through the pile and scored a old footlocker.  He offered us $20, but I didn’t feel right about taking it.  I also didn’t tell him it was filled to the brim with packing peanuts!  His wife requested an old glass vase (a cheapie florist jar).  I saw her dump the dessicated pot-pouri in our trash can as she left, though.

A little while later, Tom and his wife returned from visiting the Chevy.  He asked to see the mower,  but I told him it had already been given away (I didn’t mention it was waiting for him out front of his own garage.)  He peeked over the gate at the canoe and mumbled something about family outings, his grandson and the great outdoors (we live in Las Vegas).   As they drove off,  I overheard him talking to one of his sons on the phone.  “I think it’s about six feet long, or so.  Yeah, and they’ve got life jackets and five paddles.”  

Six feet–sixteen feet.  What’s ten feet between friends?  I didn’t correct him.  It would have been rude to interrupt.  And maybe I forgot to mention that the canoe comes with a motor mounting kit, a carrier package, two fire extinguishers, a nine-foot toboggon, and whatever else we can pack inside it before they come back.