Thursday 29 March 2012

Annal 142: Tale from the Victorian Deluge

I came home last night from watching Survivor with some friends, crawled beneath my warm blankets, set my computer up on my lap, and watched some Supernatural.  In the midst of an episode my sister emerged into the hallway and began calling for me.  I rushed out and discovered our hall carpet was wet.  We opened the door to our utility room only to discover water gushing from our hot water tank.  As my sister ran upstairs to grab our landlords I headed into the rest of the house.  What met my eyes but water pooling in our kitchen and living room.  Thus began the next while of using every towel, dish cloth, and tea towel in our house to mop up water while our landlord used his shop vac to get up the worst of it.

Pretty epic for a Wednesday night in March, wouldn't you say?

My laundry pile has now grown exponentially thanks to that little excitement, but until the plumber comes no laundry can be done.

My Victorian Literature class managed to make it into several posts last semester, but hasn't done so this semester.  Well, now is the time to bring it up :)

Apparently my life is unfolding into a Victorian gothic novel.  Here is the premise:

Woman, thwarted in much of what she sets out to do, moves to the city to attain an education that will help her pursue a future in teaching.  She moves into a basement suite, one with an odd shape and small windows, lending to a dark, and at times foreboding, feeling.  Yet this is no ordinary home.  The living room lights consistently burn out, leaving our heroine to read and study by candlelight and the glow of white lights strung about the ceiling (our heroine doesn't believe in buying light bulbs apparently).  While absent over Christmas flood waters threaten the premises and our heroine returns to find her secret box of letters scattered about her room.  At the time she dismisses it as the landlords leaving them to dry out... now she is not so sure.  Life progresses in an unassuming manner until the end of the semester draws nigh.  As she prepares to pack up her life in this city and move on, another flood occurs, threatening not only the seemingly limitless supply of electronics our heroine and her sister have stored about the house, but also our heroine's collection of mugs.  This assortment of mugs is epic, and one that has been added to over the ages by numerous people and by means of various adventures.  Someone, or something, is trying to ensure that our heroine remains buried alive in the frigid cave of her home, unable to leave and experience that adventure which Providence has directed.  The uncanny appears to have overtaken her life... will hope's light break through the trees that obscure her view of the outside world?  Or will she succumb to the darkness?

Just in case some of you were starting to think I was "normal" and had decided to lay aside those quirks which before have seemed to prevalent, I decided to gve you a post that would assure you that I have not changed. ;)

Such is the life of a Christian single.

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