Prepare yourself because this one is a beaut.
As you may recall, poor Scamper was bested by Hurricane Irma.
We have been subjected to an endless plethora of horrors.
At the onset of Irma’s unattractive appearance, we were ordered to vacate the premises. For the record, we did not enjoy that edict. However, due to our law-abiding nature, we prepared to depart.
The evacuation exercises were exceedingly difficult. There was no gasoline available anywhere. As a result, we were incapable of making our way to any of the airports to which our charming parents could send an escape plane and by the way, that annoyed them. Suffice it to say that their aggravation is not a pleasant thing to endure.
Finally, as if it were a hat trick, we came upon a young fellow in the chauffeuring profession who was willing to drive us north to Disney World.
That turned into an unbelievable fiasco. Fortunately, we were able to procure two rooms. (the last two rooms in the state, thank you very much. We kid you not. We really are that good)
The first night turned out to be an enjoyable evening of revelry. The second night, on the other hand, was when the storm broke.
We were subjected to a curfew, told that neither food, water, nor toilet paper would be available for the foreseeable future. Then we were expected to hunker down in the substandard room for the next 48 hrs.
To be clear, there are some deprivations that we will willingly endure. No food- call it a fast. No water- you had best believe that we had already filled the tub and sinks with ice. Plus, we had planned ahead. We were good on the water front. No toilet paper? – now we’ve got an issue.
We were supplied with 2 courtesy rolls. Needless to say, we were unimpressed. If we were about to be locked down for the long haul, two single ply rolls were not going to do the trick. Were they under the impression that we were a bear settling in for the winter? We actually had to purport to being the victim of irritable bowel syndrome in order to collect the situationally mandated 10 rolls required in an emergency.
Hey, look when there’s a crisis looming, shame goes out the window.
Two days later, we returned from that harrowing adventure with our wallet substantially lighter.
Those hellions were charging 70 bucks for a couple of wet mystery meat sandwiches, a bag of chips, an apple if you were among the lucky ones and a bottle of water. Really Mickey?
As we entered our sacred space, known as The Mountain, we did an initial assessment.
All seemed to be right with the world.
WRONG! It wasn’t.
Apparently, the jackass patrol attending to refacing the building had stripped all of our window seals. As we walked upon our, once very fabulous bedroom carpeting, we both felt and heard the squish, squish, squish sound of massive moisture.
After a series of less than forthright conversations, we learned from the property people that we had sustained major damage.
We moved out for several weeks and dealt with life in La Casa De Cucaracha, where we met our new friend, Hugo the water bug, who happens to have an affinity for hanging out in the toilet bowl and skittering away at the sound of a flush.
That was fun.
We’ve since returned.
We’ve been vociferously admonished for removing the moldy, once glorious carpeting and the floor boards as we were instructed to do by the insurance agent. Apparently, we aerated penicillin mold. That was especially nice, given our anaphylactic reaction to penicillin.
We moved out again.
As luck would have it, our grousing earned us a few visits from the mold lady. It seems that the squeaky wheel does indeed get the oil.
She tested the air repeatedly and accidentally mentioned that the air quality was fatal. When we shrieked, which we don’t often do, she corrected herself to say that the air test had failed.
Hence, we returned to La Casa and our new-found friend Hugo. Just for the record, the Casa caretakers were none too pleased to see us. It was the off season and we can only assume that our presence was perceived as an intrusion. We may have gotten that impression from the head caretaker who lurked outside the privy with a construction worker whilst we experienced an understandable bout of stomach upset. She complained that the noise troubled her and that she felt as if there were a stranger in her house.
Needless to say, we muttered unpleasantries all the way back to the living room. Honest to Betsey! Did that woman really think it appropriate to torment us further? Who in their right mind poses them self just outside of an occupied bathroom. It’s just rude!
We returned to our home again to be faced with a shocking discovery.
The master bedroom had been sealed off with plastic and duct tape. Oddly enough, they had the courtesy to include a zipper in the plastic to allow for entry.
Naturally, the curious kitty known as Scamper needed to take a peek.
It wasn’t a good idea.
No walls. No ceiling. No carpet and worst of all, 2 big fat hefty bags on our glorious king-sized sleeping nest, marked “Danger. Do not open. Toxic mold”
We are not too proud to admit that we screamed.
When we called the front desk, we may have referred to people as heathens and, or animals. For the love of God, who leaves a bag marked toxic mold on someone’s bed? Really?!?!
All of that was merely preamble. Here comes the good part and we couldn’t make this up. It’s all true.
After our return to our woebegone homestead, we had decided to be a trooper. We slept in the less desirable guest bedroom and rose early the next day to shower.
Whilst we showered we were treated to the presence of no less than 6 very large, strange men who had been hired to contend with the damage.
“No! No!” We yelled from within the shower. “You need to go!” It was 7:30 in the morning.
The incident was upsetting enough to once again cause digestional discord.
The next morning, as we tended to our intestinal disharmony, there they were again. Front and center with the wiggle fingered wave. Again, we yelled,” No. No. No. Get out!”
They seemed offended.
We called the building manager, yet again and said, “Get this situation under control! We cannot be subjected to strange men entering our residence unannounced.”
We were very lovely but we moved out again. Trust this. Our departure is a deprivation to the entirety of the staff. The Scamper is a joy.
We returned several days ago to an utter atrocity.
Still, no walls. No ceiling in the master bath. Mind numbing noise from the various forms of reconstruction.
Thanks to a fine upbringing and a pure heart, filled with gratitude, we took the situation in stride.
As we laid in a state of slumber, we were encroached upon by an unknown man. He loomed over our person and after noticing that we were unresponsive BECAUSE WE WERE ASLEEP, he thought that it would be wise to provide us with a little tap, tap, tap on the shoulder.
Guess what. Not wise.
It takes an actual crisis for you to know how you would really respond.
We have a gun license but we’ve never bought a gun because we were unsure of what we would do when transgressed upon.
Here’s what we did. Lifted our head from the pillow, scowled and said ,” who are you and what are you doing here?”
The answer was “dry wall”
Sorry to say, that didn’t cut it. To our tremendous surprise, we shrieked at full volume.
“The hell you are. Get the F out”
Who would have expected dear Scamper to turn into a fish wife?
Of course, immediately thereafter, we called our beloved boys crying hysterically.
The zookeeper spent the day with us in a protective position.
Fabulous came over later with a hotel styled latch lock.
Don’t take this the wrong way but the gays don’t tend to do installments. Neither do ladies of leisure.
Thankfully, our trusted and much-loved housekeeping couple arrived last night. We were quite relieved.
Senior is as burly as all get out. No one was coming in without getting popped in the face while Mr. R was here and as for the Mrs., you wouldn’t be wise to test her either. Those two bring us joy.
The moral of the story is, cultivate friends that you love and trust and never let anyone else have your key.