As I start to come to, that idiotic canine garbage disposal is licking my face, probably a little taste test before he starts taking real bites. "GET AWAY FROM ME!", and I swing my elbow; hard. When I connect, the licking stops, but man can that dog cuss up a blue streak! Wait, what?!
"I'm sorry. I thought it was your dog."
"You thought Conan was washing your BLEEPING face with a BLEEPING washcloth?!"
"No. I thought he was getting ready to eat me."
"And what? He's was just going to BLEEPING clean you the BLEEP up, first?"
"NO. I thought the washcloth was a tongue!"
"You have some serious issues, if you can't tell the difference between a tongue and a washcloth"
"Hello! Knocked out! And by you, I might add. And not for the first time today. Why did you kick me? And while we are on the subject why were you laying on my couch under a sheet?"
"I kicked you because I am in a strange house, and I woke up and there was a man next to me who was grunting."
"My cat got scared, and hit me in the junk. It hurt. When I bent over, YOU PUNTED MY HEAD!"
"And the sheet thing?"
"Oh, I'm BLEEPING sorry. After you took a nap at the base of the stairs, I couldn't find the good linens so I just grabbed whatever I could find and crashed out on the couch. I realized it was you that I had kicked, and although you might be the dumbest person I have met, you seem harmless. I am pretty sure that Conan ate my keys, because his stomach keeps chirping; that clears you of stealing my keys. So I stumbled around til I found the kitchen, got a washcloth and a pan with some water in it and I was cleaning you up, when I met Mr. BLEEPING Elbow."
"I'm sorry I elbowed you in the nose."
"You BLEEPIN' better be. It hurt."
"I'm also sorry you used the sheet I use to pick up dead animals off the side of the road with as a blanket."
But this time I was too quick, I ducked and her fist missed my face by inches. I went ahead and backed out of groin kicking range while I was at it. Conan was tied up to the bannister at the base of the stairs, and Fred was hanging off the ceiling fan, so I felt relatively safe for the moment. I figured I would just sit quietly against the door while Laura tried to see if profanity could REALLY peel the wall paper off the walls. After several minutes in which she questioned my sexuality, my genealogy, my ability to sire children, and various other ineptitude's, she eventually simmered down to a slow boil. I figured this would be a good time to try and interject something.
"I'm sorry. If I had been awake I would have offered you a real blanket. But I was lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs."
"That is no BLEEPING excuse, why do you have that inside?"
"It was pretty gross, I was going to wash it. Didn't you think it smelled a little funky?"
"Everything in this house smells pretty funky."
"Do you want to take a shower?"
"I wouldn't take a shower with you, if I was covered with road kill, and you had the only shower around."
"You are, I am; but I meant by yourself."
"OK, that sounds good, I can't get into my house until the lock guy shows up, and he can't be here until late."
"There is a shower upstairs, you can use that."
"Does it have a lock?"
"A two way mirror or a peep hole?"
"OK. Lead away Mcduff."
"No, I'm Fred Mann."
"It's a saying, you putz."
She offered me her arm and I led her up the stairs, pausing to untie Conan, her 'portable security system'. When we got to upstairs I was glad that she was blind, as I surveyed my wreck of a room from the hallway. Hell, the whole house was kind of a wreck.
"What a mess."
"How can you tell? You're blind."
"My nose works fine. AND we're walking on trash and dirty laundry."
"Good point. I'll pick up a little while you shower. Let me grab something for you to wear real quick. I have a track suit my mom gave me that I have never worn. One, because I haven't been that small since I was a sophomore in high school, and two because I look ridiculous with 'Juicy' written across my ass."
"I'm sure you do."
I got her set up in the bathroom. Before I left to launch a full scale assault on the dirty house, I remembered something very important and knocked on the door. Over the sound of the running water, the bathroom fan and Conan gnawing on my bathroom rug, I shouted.
"Hey Laura, you need to close the blinds in the bathtub."
"Close the blinds in the bathtub!"
"I got it."
I left to get a snow shovel and some large plastic bags in the garage, to commence 'operation unbachelorize the house'. After several big bags were filled up and thrown neatly at the bottom of the stairs I got a text from Mike, the creepy next door neighbor. It simply said "nice" and had several blurry cell phone pictures of an elaborate tattoo on a girl's mostly naked back. The window that was framing those pictures looked oddly familiar. As did the house attached to said window. Oh, crap! That's my house, and my bathroom window, and that's my hopefully future mostly naked girl that Mike is ogling.
HILL BLOCKS VIEW IS DEAD.
...long live, Hill Blocks View. I miss writing. But the thought of one more round of "welcome backs", or obsessing over stats, or thinking of the clever response to a comment, or the obligation to read everyone else's blog... not so much. So I'll try and write. No pressure. If you feel the need to respond, you can email me. I like email. firstname.lastname@example.org