Pink, Blue, Black, and Polkadot

Pink Bowling Ball

It started with a pink bowling ball. We went to a bowling alley for a few games last weekend. After a few 0’s in a row, it was recommended that I switch balls. The pink one was the one, apparently. It was a kids’ ball, about 6 pounds and very bright pink. Sure enough, I managed to knock down a few pins with that one! Awesome…or so I thought.

2.5 days later, my body hurt, and nose was stuffed, and I was running a fever. Apparently, kids’ balls don’t get disinfected. Who knew that there was such low hygiene at such a fine sports establishment? The snot gets around…or catches a ball at a bowling alley. From there, the germs were mine. (I bet there is an interesting health study that could be done on germ propagation via snotty sports equipment. Something that could win an Ignoble Prize…)

Laying on a reclining chair in the living room, tearing through 6 sci fi books — because I can’t work if I can’t breathe — I hear a scratching sounds behind me. Too weak to call in distress, I text my husband: we have a visitor…



He stumps into the living room, the noises stop. Darn. Okay, I can wait — what else is there to do while running a high fever?

Sure enough, it returns. Scratch, scratch, scratch, thud!

What was that? Did the thing fall? If so, it was big. A few pounds? Darn, that’s big. And clumsy.

I text my husband again. He comes over quietly — since I yelled last time that he needed to do that. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. There is no doubt — something is living inside our walls.

Next day, we go outside to examine to exterior wall. Up by the roof, almost 14 feet up, there is a big hole. That’s bad, in case you weren’t sure about that.

Our contractor climbs up and looks. He doesn’t see the critter, but he does see a bunch of water damage and dry rot. Damn! That’s worse.

But there is still something living in there…

We brainstorm. I figure we can drop hot peppers in there to drive it out — we wouldn’t want it to die in there, would we? Smoke bombs? Hot pepper spray! At that point my husband goes on the internet — we can’t be the only ones with critters living in their walls. Sure enough, there are remedies. But all is moot…

Next day, our contractor tells us we need to take down the wall anyway — we now moved on to chasing dry rot! Goody!

So for the next few days, I run a fever, sniffle, and read by the rotten wall with animals nesting by my head.

By Friday, the contractors, pull down a lot of shingles. Perhaps the thing is scared now. I am scared by the construction bill…

Yesterday, my husband cooks dinner and shows me a movie — “In Bruges”. The movie is very dark and it’s dark in the room when it’s over. I get up to find the light, and trip over the boxes that were pushed into the middle of the living room by contractors.

I am black and blue and have lovely red and white dots in the middle of those bruises. It hurts to put on pants… But my cold is better.

…the thing is still in our wall…

I HATE pink bawling balls!