We’ve come to the conclusion that The Big House was planted atop an untapped iron deposit.
Sitting high on a hill that pops up out of nowhere, The Big House is part of an intimate neighborhood surrounded by large trees and sweeping views of a broccoli like forresta. It’s also just a smidge above the houses on either side, all of which converges at once to make said casa one. big. lightning rod.
In the past few years, The Mc has lost the following items to the wrath of the sky bolts: one expensive thingie that runs the jets in the jumbo tub, one giant TV it took two guys to move, one play station that crushed his nephews, one computer, and one garage door – twice.
Just a few short weeks after paying someone to come repair the mechanical bits of the right side garage door, she got capped again. Results: one broken door and a good deal of swearing and cursing the house that’s clearly already cursed.
Summary: this Mother-Nature-is-pissed shit is getting expensive. Were the past strikes recog-retaliation for the wooden hangers, or is she really just that anxious for me to set up a rain barrel?
PS I love my friends and I love pie!