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I love my father, but he and I make poor housemates. We each have spots of the house that we consider sacred and whose violation we consider sacrilege. I consider it subhuman to not have the toilet paper on the roller, he considers it a throwback to not always have a clean kitchen towel at the sink.  This week and next, he’s on vacation with my mother, his ex-wife, and the person he’s dating which all happen to be the same person.

Tonight I returned to a house empty of other people but containing a dog that a very happy to see me, a cat that saw me, and a cockatiel that was somewhat adversarial.  This house would be mine for the next 10 days and I celebrated by not changing a thing.

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There’s a wall of boxes in my attic that largely consists of ornaments for holidays no longer celebrated, equipment from sports no longer played, and sheets for beds that no longer exist.  I assumed this wall extended to the rear of the house but like the Burgess Shale, a sudden crap-valanche unearthed hidden treasures.  The wall was not thick through but hollow and contained the water bottle rocket launchers I couldn’t find and a collection of burettes in perfect condition.  There’s another wall of such boxes in my attic that I thought consisted of clothing and elementary school projects.  If all goes well, I’ll knock it down and find my crazy uncle Stanley’s pirate gold in there.

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There’s a faucet in the downstairs powder room/half bath that leaks.  This wouldn’t normally be nothing more than an annoyance, but it’s also the case that the faucet doesn’t work.  One can twirl the handles to one’s heart’s content and not an additional drop will escape.  It’s essentially a leaky pipe with an incredibly ornate catch basin.  That’s my house: A leaky faucet on a non-functioning sink.

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Our second tenant moved the rest of his personal items in, apparently.  The room was largely empty at around 10 PM when I saw two pinpoints of light part in front.  For about 30 seconds I heard muffled footsteps in the hallway outside my closed room door and a single “plop” of boxes being dropped.   Then, silently, the pinpoints left and all was quiet.  I peek into the room at about 11 PM and there were about 25 24″x24″x18″ boxes and an entire queen-sized bed-frame, matress and box spring.  I think we’re renting to either a Shinobi of the Silver Court or possibly David Copperfield.

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Three years ago I replaced the incandescent 150 watt bulbs in my office with 150 watt-equivalent fluorescent bulbs and hated the light. I replaced them later with “natural light” bulbs that transmit a broader spectrum than your standard CFL and could blind you at 100 yards as you drove up the driveway. Today, my father replaced our dead floodlight with a bulb of a similar spectrum and it’s changed the house. Everything in our driveway looks really small as the light looks like it’s coming from a desk lamp. Bugs don’t circle it probably because they’ve been blinded by its full spectrum. Even our dog Max is slightly confused. We’ll let him out and he’ll look around tentatively before tinkling probably thinking he’s still inside, missing the forceful yellow of the sodium vapor bulb. He’ll adjust eventually, and probably take dump on the green carpet of my room. Life goes on.

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THE DOMINOS PIZZA DELIVERY GUY IS THE REINCARNATION OF EDGER ALLEN POE.  He calls to get directions, realizes where my house is and says “the home whose driveway’s end is in night’s darkness where the trees bend to warn you of what waits at the mountain top”. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP.