Shennanigans at home

I went home this weekend to visit with the family. I drove up with my sister and stayed at Mom's house.

Saturday night I took mom out for a belated birthday dinner with C-roc and his wife to my buddy's sushi restaurant. We had a sake tasting, and due to a mix-up in the order, C-roc and I also wound up with two giant beers each. Luckily we literally had a boat-load of sushi to go along with our sea of alcohol, so I was still sober enough to safely drive mom home before meeting C-roc and wifey out for post-dinner cocktail at our favorite watering hole.

I chatted up a girl at the bar who casually mentioned her husband mid-conversation. She wasn't wearing a ring, so I don't know if that was bullshit or not, but I took the hint and walked away after I finished my beer. At around 10:30 we all said good night and I started on my way back to mom's house.

Before I continue I need to give a little background. When I was in high school my dad and I built a detached one-car garage way in our back yard to serve as our workshop, which we called simply "the shed". The shed was our only man space in the house and was used for such manly pursuits as carpentry, fishing rod repair, and on occasion some covert motorcycle maintenance. The shed had power, a work bench, a giant vise, and a myriad of power tools. I loved it.

My dad and I went to the same college, so one year for father's day I got him a weathervane for the shed that had our college logo on top of it. It sounds like a strange gift, but he got a real kick of out it. We immediately mounted it on top of the shed and it looked really cool.

When my parents sold that house eight years ago they never removed the weathervane from the shed, and I always joked that I would sneak in an take it one day.

That day actually came on Saturday night after the bar. I was driving home a little tipsy (probably shouldn't have been behind the wheel) and decided it was time to reunite the weathervane with its rightful owner, me! I drove around the house a few times and there were no lights on, so I parked on a side street and cut between a row of houses. This deposited me in the backyard, which was pitch black. In planning this little caper (five minutes before while sitting in my car) I didn't think how I would get on the roof of the shed, which was at least twelve feet tall. I mostly just thought about my victorious drive home with weathervane in hand, Chariots of Fire blaring in the background.

Standing at the base of the shed, drunk and in the dark, things were more complex. I walked around the shed hoping the new owners of the house would have a ladder laying around like we used to, but I wasn't that lucky. My hastily improvised Plan B had me traipsing through my former neighbors' back yards looking for a ladder. Half a black away I literally tripped over one that had been overrun by a massive ivy patch, likely of the poisonous variety. I grabbed two rungs and yanked it out of the weeds and vines, falling twice in the process. It turned out to be a 20' extension latter, which was overkill for the task at hand, but would do.

I carried the ladder the half-block back to the shed through the woods and over a few fences, trying to be as quiet as I could, but probably made more noise than a marching band. I propped it up against the side of the shed and scurried up giggling like a school-girl. Again, in my meticulous planning I failed to bring any tools whatsoever, so once on top of the shed I realized I had no way of removing the weathervane, which I knew was bolted to the roof since I had done it myself years before. Back down the ladder I went. I figured the shed was locked, but tried the door anyway in hopes of scoring a wrench or pry-bar. I was shocked when it opened (adding B&E to the criminal trespassing, public intoxication, and larceny charges). I flicked on the light only to find that the shed, our man cave, was now storage for patio furniture, a child's Playskool kitchen set, and several marble statues. I cursed the new owners for their blasphemy and raced back up the ladder, aware that the light alerted the entire neighborhood that someone was in the back yard.

On the roof I straddled the peak, grabbed hold of the weathervane and pulled strait up with zero success. Next I wiggled the base from side to side and in a few seconds felt it start to give. I wiggled harder and finally heard the distinctive "CHINK" sound of metal fracturing just before I fell backwards and almost to my death. I managed to catch myself before going over the side and breaking my neck, but in doing so I flung the weathervane about thirty feet across the yard.

I ran down the ladder again, gathered my trophy, and casually walked back to my car, or at least as casually as someone in a black hoodie exiting the woods at 11pm carrying a giant weathervane can walk. Once in my car I hightailed it out of there and back to mom's house.

On the road the next morning I reached into the back seat and plopped the cap of the weathervane down in my sister's lap. She immediately knew what it was and laughed hysterically. I think I will mount it on top of my "shed" here in DC.