Thursday Night, Family Night

In case any of you have been missing me, wondering where I have been or why I haven’t been lurking on your blogs lately: I have been writing  hella science fiction lately and it’s been taking me away from my blogging life. I’ll try to do better in the future.

As you may recall, my father is recovering from open heart surgery. He can’t lift more than 5 lbs. I went over to his place on Sunday to help him clear an area to build a shelf to go through his more than 7,000 vinyl records. And no, 7,000 wasn’t a typo.


7000 albums looks kind of like this. Only they are disorganized and stacked precariously and sliding all over at my father’s.


He lives in an old creepy farmhouse that has been converted into a new age church. My ex, A, used to say that it was abandoned by the living but haunted by the dead.

My father is a bit of a hoarder, but the stuff he hoards is actually cool. I guess that makes him more of an eccentric collector.

I have included some pictures here for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy.



The front of the building and the porch that is blocked off.


After I left on Sunday he told me that he had found a nest of black widows near where we were working. I decided it wasn’t worth mentioning that I had felt something in my pants, biting me, on the drive home.

I went back tonight with my brother,T, to move a few more things about.  I have mentioned my brother several times, but I forgot to direct you here for more about him.

First we had to move all the records we had stacked in one room on Sunday to another bureau. We were moving two bureaus up the stairs. The stairs that had no guard rails. And steps that ranged between three different heights seemingly at random.



Peeling paint, creepy access holes, fancy chandeliers. It’s all here!


Then my father needed us to move a sofa bed couch out to the trash for him. It was pouring down rain in the middle of a terrible thunderstorm. I was sweating my ass off and had dropped a rusted nail studded board on myself and stabbed myself in the back with a key stuck in a door.



The almost definitely haunted outbuildings that I almost got murdered at for this picture.


My brother went to move the couch from where it was standing on end, and knocked over a stack of boxes 6 feet high. He and I started cracking up laughing. We had narrowly missed a desk covered in crystals and knick knacks.

Once we both had this couch in our arms (and faces) my father tells us that it had “bugs.” I almost dropped the thing, fearing that he meant roaches. But no. Bed bugs? No. Termites? No. Just silverfish, no biggie.

T and I lugged this giant sofa bed couch outside, then set it down on it’s wheel and raced  it, laughing, down the long driveway to the curb. In the pouring rain. We got stuck a few times and nearly fell on the disgusting thing.



My amazing photography skills at work here. But at least you can tell it is stormy as fuck.


But it was pretty fun. I could see that catching on. Two man couch races. It was like pushing a bobsled with four shitty grocery cart wheels through soft sand.

By this point, we were exhausted. Soaking wet from the rain and sweat. And I had been accidentally stabbed twice.

And that’s when we found the bottle rockets.

No matter what I find at my father’s place, I am never surprised. I suspect the Bermuda triangle actually has one point in central Florida at my father’s, one point in northern Florida at my mother’s and the third point extends out into the Atlantic. Anything could be there. And anything is there.



This is actually the background on my phone. It was unstaged. Just a normal vignette of a human skull, crystals, incense, razor blades. That’s at everyone’s father’s house, right?


My brother, father and I went out onto his side porch and lit bottle rockets, from a planter on the covered porch, into his yard, at the garage apartment on the property. It was undeniably stupid.



The garage apartment where the human skull was famously found.

But nobody got hurt. Except me. On the key and rusty nail.


The old field really cleans up nice when it isn’t mowed.


15 thoughts on “Thursday Night, Family Night

  1. Wow – I can see where you get your joie de vive from. So; black widow bite, rusty nail scratch, rockets and razor blades – what else? Glad you know CPR. Will you share some of your science fiction with us?

    • I don’t know about sharing my sci-fi with the world. Maybe people will come to my blog looking for a vagina story and instead see one about robots and be all “What the hell is this bullshit?” I’ll email you one though, if you really want to read something…

      • I’ve been toying with the idea of writing some autobiographical fiction (if there is such a thing) — hoping it helps me process what is going on right now. But I’m also very hesitant about sharing it on my blog — some of it is pretty raw and, quite frankly, I’m frustrated and ashamed by some of the stuff I’m feeling — I just don’t know that I want my adult kids or parents reading it.

      • Jana, I have another blog where I share that stuff. It is anonymous. I can tell you, that I have journaled for 20 years. And went to pretty intense therapy for a year and a half. And nothing helped me the way sharing my feelings with the world did. Nothing. Your feelings are nothing to be ashamed of. You are a human. We all have negative feelings sometimes. If you ever want to share something privately with me, you know how to reach me. And I can assure you, I have essay after essay of those bad feelings.

    • You know how people describe some place as being evil? Or having bad energy? I rarely say that. But I’m pretty sure there is a secret 8th horcrux hidden there. And homeless people squatting.

      • Ah! Those bad energy feelings, which happen to me often, are interesting. Sometimes I don’t know if the feelings are illusions or my actual picking up on readings.

        The homeless people are “seasoning” to that portion of uncertainty.

  2. I HAVE SO MUCH TO TELL YOU. *hyperventilates*
    My dad and your dad could be besties. We visited my dad over Thanksgiving and I’m pretty sure I have PTSD. and SHUT UP that your dad has skulls and crystals in his home! My dad does too! OMG I took photos; I need to show them to you! He’s a “collector” (read sarcasm because he’s totally a hoarder) and has freaking everything stuffed into every nook and cranny. It’s dizzying. The only bad thing (only?) is that he’s a major smoker, and his dogs pee and crap on the floor…so the place is not so much entertaining as horrifying and definitely condemnable.

    Also, this made me laugh so hard. I love that you and your bro played crazy games with the couch and fireworks.

    I’m glad you weren’t bitten by black widows. That would be awful.

    • Holy shit! Are we secretly related? Your father does sound worse than mine. But both my parents are the same. Our house was abject chaos and…stuff. I really want to see your pictures.

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