Did I ever mention the time that I got blasted into outerspace?
I did and said something so unmentionable, something so offensive to some of the most influential governments on earth that exiled me lock stock n barrel. And no, probably not the governments you’re thinking of.
This was a couple of years back and I was living in the bungalow. I guess they couldn’t have done it if I was living anywhere else, but it happened that the bungy was longish and not very wide. I could remember times, being in there lying crumpled on the bed and looking down its length to the far windows. It was the way the ceiling slanted that reminded me of old school portable classrooms. I’d see those things just as often blowing past on the back of a semi-trailer as I would being used as a classroom.
One afternoon I noticed some guys in the backyard doing some construction but I thought nothing of it. They had those things… you know those things? That look like measuring lenses on tripods—one guy will stand behind it and the other far off somewhere. You see those things here and there occasionally and you … well I think what the heck are the going to build there? And eventhough they were in the back yard I thought nothing of it.
Same the next day when they were back with a few mates this time – saws, horses, planks of wood. All quite unassuming. But rather noisesome.
At this time I was studying – this was during the time when I was mostly studying off campus and would not really need to go anywhere. If something cropped up I would email the professor.
I would trudge across the yard to the out house and ignore the workmen, thinking they were something to do with T.—the landlady. I figured she was getting a pergola built in the yard. And in hindsight, I guess alarm bells should’ve gone off in my head when they actually knocked down T.’s house to make way for unusually heavyduty earth-removal equipment.
I was doing an assignment on Madonna at the time. It was taking all my concentration. I think I’ve mentioned before, here, how when I get these blocks of things I have to process – information – that it can takeover most of my brainpower. In the evenings I’d make chunky soup and thick toast and watch whatever movie was on telly—but that was downtime. That was as essential as the time actually writing.
One mid-morning after imbibing the double coffee, as is, was and shall probably ever be my habit – I had to go to take a slash and found that the door was blocked.
Or more to the point. The door wasn’t there at all.
I am sure you’ll think it the weakest point in the story, but I honestly didn’t think much of it. I sat down again and continued churning thru info and rewording it with neat little summaries at the end of each para. Periodically my bladder would remind me of its situation and things would go on in the back of my head.
I’m not proud to say it, and I’ll thank you for not repeating it, but I eventually went in the kitchen sink.
Sure! Yes, the noise outside was liable to drive me nuts but I was used to it, I guess. If it wasn’t dogs barking, it was drunken abusive owners of dogs yelling, and if it wasn’t yelling, it cars revving in the back lane and if it wasn’t cars revving it was the sounds of reverse beepers and bucket cranes pile drivers.
Then one day, what do you know? but somehow my bathroom and toilet were now at the end of the bungalow – the opposite end for me where I usually went out the door—the door that was no longer there. I could still see out the windows, which was a good thing because there were right next to the work desk and I often turned to the right to peer out in deep thought.
A couple of days later, during the early evening – 6 or 7 I guess—daylight savings – still light. I was talking to mum on the telephone. I had this nifty cordless blue-coloured phone and eventhough it was cordless I’d always sit in the same spot, right next to the holder. Funny that. But anyway – there’s all the banging as usual but then what really pissed me was that the line went dead.
I stuck my head out the window, frankly fed up with all this rubbish, and called out, “hey look what’s going on here? I was on the phone.”