Jusht An Ash Hole

/ Diane Henders

I was on the phone with my step-mom the other day when the conversation turned to my messy painting habits, and I confessed that by now I have paint on my jacket, shoes, jeans, and even my socks.

My step-mom expressed concern about my jacket, but I assured her, “Oh, no, it’s only my old camping jacket.  It’s ancient and full of ash holes from sitting around the campfire.”

I should have known she wouldn’t let me get away with that.  She hesitated, then let me have it:  “Are you saying there’s an ash hole in your jacket?  So who’s the ash hole?”

Needless to say, I laughed my ash off.

And I was ready for a good laugh, because my patience with the construction process is wearing thin.

But… *drumroll please* …we might get the all-important Occupancy Permit in a few days!

These days Hubby and I utter the words “Occupancy Permit” in the same way one might say “Holy Grail”: with capital letters and in a hushed tone of awe.  The other day our neighbour’s truck went by towing a flatbed trailer with an oak dining room suite on it, and Hubby said, “Mike got his Occupancy Permit last week.”

I sighed with the same hopeless desire as if I’d just found out Mike had won $50 million in the lottery.

Wait, no.  If he’d won $50 million I’d be pleased as punch for him.  But an Occupancy Permit?  I admit it:  I’m rabidly envious.  Imagine, an actual dining table and chairs.  And a kitchen to cook real food instead of microwaving plastic prepared stuff.

And maybe… dare I even think it?  *whispers* A dresser and a closet.  We’ve been living out of suitcases for so long I can’t even remember if I have other clothes besides the same fourteen T-shirts I’ve been wearing over and over for the past five months.

But despite my limited sartorial options, I’ve discovered that no matter how few clothes you have in your suitcase, the item you want will always be at the bottom.  And when you have multiple T-shirts of approximately the same colour, you will have to unfold each and every one of them before you finally find the one you want.

And socks?  I’ve previously speculated that socks are the work of evil; and their behaviour in my suitcase confirms it.  No matter how carefully I pair and arrange them so the best ones are on top, the sock imps rampage through my suitcase at night, pulling pairs apart and hiding the best socks in odd corners while moving the second-string ones to the top.

Here’s proof:  My painting shoes have holes in them.  Ergo, I have a pair of socks with blue paint on the toes.  How many times do you think I’ve pulled that pair out of my suitcase thinking they were good socks?

Yep, you guessed it.  Every… single… time!  This despite the fact that each time I find them, I push them back to the bottom of the suitcase.

So, between the malevolent sock imps and the irritation of STILL not having a finished house, I’m a woman on the edge.  If we don’t get our Occupancy Permit by next week, I’m gonna put on my ash hole jacket and start kickin’ ash!

Am I the only one with sock imps in my suitcase?

36 thoughts on “Jusht An Ash Hole”

    • LOL! That’s a good one!

      My hubby once came very close to attending a formal business meeting with one of my small lacy undergarments in the sleeve of his shirt. (That was the handiwork of the static-cling imps.) Fortunately he noticed just before he left the house; otherwise his business meeting might have been a bit more interesting!

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      • I like a little lace at a mans cuff on the right occasion. At least putting his hand in his pocket to remove the evidence would not have raised eyebrows. Sticking his hands down his trousers might have.
        I would have thought, living next door to the Antactic as we do an extra layer between his pole and the South Pole would be appreciated. As my socks are usually wool I can see his irritation though.

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    • Yes, that magic piece of paper allows us to live in our own house, on our own land, in a location that can’t even be seen from any other human habitation.

      We’ve already passed the electrical inspection, plumbing inspection, HVAC inspection, septic inspection, framing inspection, and insulation inspection. So apparently the occupancy inspection is to save us from the perils of missing siding, and to ensure that if we have more than three steps up to our house, we have a landing and a handrail. (I guess it’s okay to fall 21 inches, but 28 is life-threatening.)

      I can’t understand why they should care about any of it since if we already owned the house and were renovating, the whole thing could be basically torn down around our ears while we still lived there. But them’s the rules; and the rule-enforcers are filled with the righteous fervour only a paperpusher can muster. All boxes must be checked, no matter how ridiculous!

      Don’t get me started…

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  3. From this post, I got a bit of a vibe from the “Plus One! From the Weather Service” one back in the winter. 🙂

    Oh, look, dear! Twenty-seven workmen showed up at the house today, and they installed another whole piece of corner trim on the siding before they vanished into thin air!! Oh, rapturous joy!

    (sniff, sniff…) What’s that I smell? Sarcasm?

    No, not at all. That would be sympathy. Make that heartfelt sympathy. The bone-deep kind.

    And just so you know, I totally get the working in the car thing. From late January to mid-April, I’m my wife’s chauffeur on Saturdays. She’s a tax accountant, and Saturdays are when she delivers her customers’ returns. And she spends at least two hours at the accounting firm she subs for on those days, so I’ve always got my laptop fired up while I’m kicked back in my truck out in the parking lot cranking away while she’s with clients inside.

    The old laptop was good for only an hour or so before the battery died, so I’d have to take a 12 volt inverter to plug into. The new one will do at least six hours!

    And progrethth ith progrethth, thithta. Clother and clother. Thoon, thithta. Thoon…

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    • Yeth indeed! Neither rain nor thnow nor dark of night will deter me. (And we’ve had plenty of all three.)

      Nor will I succumb to the urge to murder workmen who allot us 3 days, only to show up sometime between 11 AM and 1 PM, spend two hours sitting in their trucks talking on their phones, and leave at 4:30 PM after installing five pieces of baseboard.

      All. Three. Days.

      We do have enough land here to hide the bodies; but I just don’t have the time or energy to do it properly. They’ll never know how close to death they came…

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  4. Sock imps. Nice. It’s the bra-strap fiddle fairies I hate more. When they sneak in and stretch the straps too loose so your boozies bobble down to your knees. Or for shits and giggles, they tighten them up way too high so you’re drowning in a fleshy sea of your own cleavage. Bra-strap fiddle faires. The worst.

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    • I dunno. I thought peerage was what little kids did around corners when parents thought they were asleep late on Christmas night.

      But I’d wager much that after a few wee drams, your average Scotts peer won’t give a rip whether his socks match either is kilt or his underwear. Unless he farts with a lithp. Jutht thayin’…

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      • Bahahaha!!! But wait; if his socks matched his underwear, he’d be barefoot. 😉

        A proper British lady sidles up to a Scotsman and whispers, “Please tell me, sir… what is worn under the kilt?”

        And the Scotsman replies, “Lassie, I assure ye, ever’thin’ under the kilt is in perfect workin’ order.”

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        • I dunno if I can fart with a lithp, but I speak mule frequently. 🙂

          A farmer had an old mule that the he would bet anyone that it could do math. And if the mule could give the right answer, the farmer won the wager. The farmer had, in fact, become rather wealthy from his mule’s math skills.

          A city slicker hears of the mule and decides to challenge.

          “How much is the wager?” asks the city fellow.

          “Five dollars a question,” the farmer replies.

          The city fellow holds out a five dollar bill and says, “Ask your mule how much is two times four.”

          The farmer takes the money and asks. whereupon the mule stomps the ground eight times. The farmer pockets the bill and asks, “Had enough?”

          “Not yet,” comes the confident reply.

          This goes on for quite a while, and the farmer has his pockets full of the strangers money. “Had enough?” he asks again after yet another correct answer.

          “Nope, one more question, and double or nothing this time.”

          “Well,” the farmer says, scratching his head. “It’s gettin’ late, but I guess we got time fer one more.”

          The city fellow gets a snide smirk on his face and says, “Ask your mule to describe a quantity of more than one but fewer than five.”

          The farmer does so, whereupon the mule turns around, raises its tail and whispers from its posterior end. “Ahhhhhhh…pheeeewwwwwwww….”

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  6. When you get your Occupancy Permit, and then your dresser, nonchalantly put your socks in the dresser and then RUN YOUR ASH OUTSIDE AND BURN THAT SUITCASE because the sock imps will move to your drawers, given half a chance.

    Speaking of drawers, have you noticed that the underwear imps are quite active too?

    I hope things go smoothly this last little bit. I can imagine the frustration. Deep breaths! Good air in! Bad air out!

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    • *breathing now* Almost there… almost there…

      And dammit, you’re right about the underwear imps! I have the same problem. Burning the suitcase may be the only answer… ’cause I’d really hate to have imps in my drawers. Owie! 😉

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  7. Love the idea of sock Imps. I tend to find they love my body stockings, I put them in one order and when I go to the draw, the lil dresses are on top and the body stockings are squished to the back tangled. Maybe I own tonmany and the draw isn’t big enough or maybe it’s Imps, but I’m not putting cornflakes in the draw.

    2nd week in a new job. I’m loosing weight. Nothing fits anymore but it’s good to be out of the house and working in an office again with people.

    Life is pretty good right now, might even get back to posting on my own blog again, even if it is just me that reads it hehe, proves I’m still alive and floating around in cyberspace, who knows occasionally bumping into Aydan and the gang.

    I’m almost ready for you to finish the current book. I still have less than 100 pages of a Lee child, from march but I’ll get there

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    • Congratulations on your new job! I was wondering how that ‘working from home’ was going for you – sounds as though the new one is much better. I hope the sock imps cut you some slack when you’re trying to get ready in the morning. 😉

      It’s great to hear from you again, and with any luck I’ll have Book 12 ready soon!

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      • Working from home was great but the job wasn’t, it ended up being sales which I’m no good at coz I still have a soul lol
        I left or they got rid of me depending on which way you look at. I had a holiday in Spain, then came back and started looking for a job with pretty much nothing to live on, vowel unlike last year I was being offered jobs every time I applied just about. So life is good.
        I’d still like to work from home but it would have to be the right thing

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  8. Hi Diane, You are right on about socks. I am a “saver” (not yet a hoarder) and I have a bottom drawer half-filled with sock rejects, i.e. pretty crappy and loose fitting to wear but not bad enough to toss…….and available for a “sock emergency”!! Keep smilin’,Duane’P.S. I snagged a few good ideas below: Redneck engineering at its best!

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    • Oops, your redneck engineering didn’t seem to come through – WordPress filters out images. But I totally agree with you about the sock emergencies. They do happen, and it’s always good to have a few second-stringers available just in case!

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  9. Ahhh yes sock imps. They do so love to travel, They move to the suitcases after having conspired with the washing machine gods. Today I was matching socks and somehow I have an odd pair. Not sure where the other halves are. Maybe I has best check my suitcases, as the imps have been known to find them in storage.
    Good luck cornering them…. I have heard they are particularly fond of cornflakes, Maybe leave an offering out for them and they will leave your socks alone… for a little while.

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