Was It Poetic Justice? – I Was Captive In My Own Home


The “great escape” was flawed.  After blotching family plans that have been in the making for the past eight weeks, I was ready for diversion. In other words, I was ready to run away from home.  I really needed to get out of the house.  Thursday night was a little tense.

The General discovered I had inadvertently scheduled interviews at work on a date previously reserved for time with grandchildren.  Even Friday morning, in response to my blog, my son unknowingly contributed to my level of stress.  He made the comment, “Dad, You have no idea how much trouble you’re in.”  Was that a subtle message that his General was also not happy with her father-in-law?  Worse yet, did it mean my grandchildren were disappointed?  I’m still at a loss to know how I could inadvertently have made such a blunder. I don’t always get it right, but this time the consequences were up-close and personal.  I felt awful.  I really did!  However I’d already gone down the wrong road too far to take corrective action. The die was cast.

I was in a heap of trouble and rightly so.  Honestly, before the crack of dawn yesterday morning, I looked forward to going to work.  I awakened at 3:30 a.m. to the sound of rain pelting the skylight in our bathroom.  In all likelihood, the sound of rain pelting against the windows in our bedroom magnified the sound as well.  The shutters were almost shut, but I could still evidence of lightening cascading through the cracks in the shutters.   Needless to say, “It was not going to be a “sun shiny day.”

I didn’t consider for a moment that the low-water crossing near my home would be impassible.  The letters “S” “T” “U” “P” “I” “D” must be permanently engraved on my forehead.  Of course, the low water crossing was impassible.  It had been raining “cat’s and dogs” for almost three hours.

I’ve heard the slogan, “Turn around, don’t drown”.  What the slogan doesn’t address is what do you do when you don’t have room to turn around?  In case you’re interested, backing up in the dark, even with a camera display on your dashboard, isn’t all that easy.  Maybe at some level, I was being resistive.  I really thought I needed to get out of the house.  If the General had gotten any closer to her side of the bed Thursday night, she would have fallen onto the floor.  She didn’t say anything, but she was not a happy camper.

Actually, I’ve already partially provided incorrect information.  The General did share one piece of information with me that hurt my heart.  I had stopped by Cat Spring on my way home from Houston on Wednesday night.  Part of my intent was to look at the construction of the home my son and his family are having built.  My grandsons were playing football with their cousins.  They had no interest in going to the construction site.  As I was leaving, I yelled goodbye to the boys.  I didn’t think anything more about it.  The General shared with me that Jake, the six year old, had mistakenly thought I was spending the night with them.  He cried when he found out I had gone home.  I’m not sure what credentials a person needs to substantiate that he is a jerk, but I sense I’ve passed with flying colors.

I backed up the road to my gate very slowly yesterday in the early morning hours.  Did I mention it was really dark outside and my vision was more than limited even with the back-up camera?  It took approximately thirty minutes to back up a very short distance.  I went inside the house to discover I no longer had Internet connectivity.  In addition, the Dish network was also inoperable.  Forget sending an email to work or checking the weather report.

Was it poetic justice?  It wasn’t like I was being held captive in my own home, but in essence I didn’t have many other options.  Okay, so I was captive in my own house.  Wouldn’t you know it?  So what’s a man to do?  If you’re answer is to go with the flow, I’d be downstream by now.  I did backtrack to the low water crossing once more about mid-morning.  The rain wasn’t as intense and I really did need to get to work.  Besides that, it was light outside.  If I found it impossible to safely navigate the low water crossing, at least I could safely back up without fear of running off the road.  As it turned out, there was nothing “low” about the low water crossing.  Consequently, it was my privilege to back up all the way home.  My only role now was to mind my Ps and Qs.

I have to say, the General couldn’t have been more pleasant. There was no mention of anything other than the possibility we could work together to figure out what we were going to do with all the stuff the General had pulled out of closets.  In addition, she was concerned about where we’d put the Christmas tree.  Can you believe it, it’s not even Halloween and she’s obsessing about the Christmas tree? I knew I needed to leave home.

She also wanted to go through Christmas decorations stored in the garage. Maybe it was time we got rid of some of that stuff?  If we disposed of it now, it might be beneficial to others this Christmas.  It was all music to my ears with the exception that I really didn’t want to be a part of that process.  The day had the makings of what could be a very long day.

In addition, we still had a plethora of framed pictures scattered in several rooms with which we needed to do something.  Hang them, toss them, store them, move them – at least get them out of the floor. The General agreed with the stipulation that most of them were not going back on the walls.  She was resolute in her determination that we weren’t going to over-do it.  Okay, why not do it her way?  I really am a smart man.

Well, I’m not too smart. I hung a couple of pictures and asked what she thought?  She thought I was doing it my way without consulting her.  Will I ever learn?  “Probably not” is my best answer.  I offered to take the newly hung pictures down and start all over.  She said, “No”, the pictures were fine.

Before the day was over, we had moved my children’s inheritance (or lack thereof) from the closet where they were stored.  At least, that’s how I endearingly refer to the volume of books I pre-purchased from the publisher of my books.  How did I know at the time that I wouldn’t have time to devote to marketing?  I guess it all falls under the Biblical concept, “You shall have the poor with you always”.  At least, if I was going to buy books, I bought my own.  Some might call that a lack of literary taste.

By day’s end, we’d make lots of progress.  The house looks great!  The closet (my wife has a thing for neat and orderly) where my books previously were stored can now be used for guests to hang clothing.  Who would have anticipated how many boxes of books can stored in space designated for “dirty clothes” that have never been used for that purpose?  Of course, the General pointed out the grandkids aren’t going to like it.  They previously have used those spaces to hide when they were playing hide-and-seek.

In case you’re wondering, it is still raining.  Who knows what today will bring.  I fear it will be time spent in the garage going through Christmas decorations.  At this point, my interests are best served by willfully doing whatever is requested.

All My Best!



2 thoughts on “Was It Poetic Justice? – I Was Captive In My Own Home”

  1. Don,Don,Don, when will you ever learn (lol)? I’m to assume you’ve heard the term”not the sharpest knife in the drawer” just remember “this too shall pass”. I learned a long time ago to heat & cool the “Dog House” because I knew I’d be spending a lot of time there……. :-)…..GT

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Well Don, at least this post resolves my concerns that you might have been washed away during one of the last couple of deluges. Glad you didn’t test the ‘swim to safety’ trope and that you’re still around to help the General redecorate!


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