Unreliable reporters, wildebeests, and non-existent raccoons

Boy, it was a good but busy weekend. Shows, Youth Sunday, Youth luncheon, parents in town... it was very difficult to drag myself out of bed this morning. Adding to our excitement was discovering the roof was leaking. That would be the new roof. The new, very expensive roof. We are hopeful between the roof being under warranty and home owner's insurance will take care of the cost. But that means contacting everyone, making appointments, having it repaired. Sigh.

But not one to pass up telling a good story, I'll at least get a blog post out of it.

Saturday night after the show, we were all climbing into bed, just a little bit tired, when B. comes to the door and says, "You need to come to the third floor RIGHT NOW!" and runs back up. This leaves J. jumping out of bed to follow, shouting, "What's wrong?! B.! B.! WHAT'S WRONG!" I'm then left lying in bed imagining all sorts of horrors that await them, not the least of which is a whole army of armed raccoons dressed for battle. (I did mention fatigue, right?) In my defense, I didn't know that J. had asked B. to go upstairs to turn off the lights. I couldn't think why he had gone upstairs in the first place and the only reason I could come up with is that a raccoon had fallen through the ceiling and into his bedroom. Armed raccoons really did seem to be a genuine concern.

Instead of raccoons, what B. had found was that there was a hole in the ceiling where the plaster and insulation had fallen down because the roof had been leaking and the ceiling just collapsed. It was a mess. (Or more accurately, it is still a mess.) J. gets back into bed, tells me what was wrong, sighs heavily and secretly (or not so secretly) wishes the house would just disappear, and tries to go back to sleep. That is, until I remember something that the little girls had been telling me earlier that day, at which point he breaks into rather pathological hysterical laughter.

And what had the little girls been telling me? Well, that there was a hole in the ceiling, a piece of information that I didn't really think about. You see, there are holes in the walls from the ongoing clan warfare between the raccoons and the Currys and I assumed that any holes they had seen were already there. Plus, these are the same little girls that tell me Very Important Things all day long that have no bearing on reality. They both live in vivid imaginary worlds and while it seems real to them, it does not make it worth hiking up to the third floor. If I remember right, the 'hole in the ceiling' story came either right after or right before I was told that L. really likes wildebeests and that I HAD to take her to the animal store where they sell wildebeests so that she could buy one. Do you blame me for not really paying attention?

So, yes, in theory, I did know about the hole in the ceiling. But when you spend nearly every waking moment with great herds of wildebeests and unreliable reporters, a sifting of information needs to happen. I guess sometimes reality slips through unnoticed. Too bad it was the hole and not a pet wildebeest that slipped through.


sandwichinwi said…
Now, think that through carefully. You'd really appreciate a wildebeest appearing in your house rather than a wet hole?



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