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So I found out where my pile of dirt was actually supposed to go...
a thread
(many thanks to @folkslinger for an excellent childhood. See what I learnt...)
Determining that this was a damn lot of dirt to be moving with one little shovel, I did some detective work.
Here it is:
a thread
(many thanks to @folkslinger for an excellent childhood. See what I learnt...)
Determining that this was a damn lot of dirt to be moving with one little shovel, I did some detective work.
Here it is:
Being an insomniac by nature, and being that several home improvement jobs were in progress on my street, I'd completely ignored the sound of moving trucks. So when my landlord asked if I knew who'd delivered said dirt (because it wasn't him) I was able to text:
"No, I do not."
"No, I do not."
but after I got done making jokes about surprise dirt, and after trying to move it with my one sturdy but little dirt shovel, I was tired of making jokes. And then I noticed muddy tire tracks on the road out front, so I decided to follow them.
I followed the muddy tire tracks & saw confusing evidence, as if perhaps someone had turned around in a neighbor's driveway, or perhaps tried to deliver a truckload of dirt there. But I kept going. I finally found what I was looking for, with a "do not enter" sign. I entered.
I yelled to the person I saw carrying a ladder: "Excuse me?" but he put the ladder down and went in the house. I understand white women yelling can be terrifying, so I didn't wait long to see if he came back out. But the dirt matches; this is all I need to know. I formed a plan.
Now that the mystery was solved, I knew what to do: I needed to inform the People In Charge that the dirt had been misappropriated, and ask them to retrieve it. I went to the pool hall to regroup and have a whisky; I don't remember when I last had a whisky. So I did that.
At the pool hall, I found my friend Dave, the drummer. We talked about his recent gig, and upcoming gig, and my pile of dirt. I ordered a shot of Laphroaig Select, neat; Gino The Best Barkeep gave me a sample of Teeley's. I already know I don't like Teeley's but I drank it.
As I explained my sleuthing to Dave, and my intentions to put a sign in the correct dirt pile indicating that I wanted the errant dirt pile retrieved, I thought about Alice's Restaurant. It was too late to put a note under the pile of dirt. But I was thinking...
I finished my one shot of Laphroaig Select, and went next door to the Latino Bakery to buy some sweet bread. All the while, I'm thinking about the signs I need to make. At home, I realized this is an Important Historic Event, possibly epic. So I made some coffee to go with bread.
As I crafted the verbiage for my sign, I realized two things: If I make my sign a tribute to Alice's Restaurant, whoever reads the sign may not get the joke. And I will probably need two signs for a proper tribute. Also, I think someone stole my sharpies.
This is important work, though, and there's no time to go buy more sharpies. I am an artist, so I will have implements of destruction (ha ha) on hand. sipping decaf Bustelo and snacking on pan de yema, I worked out the Very Important Verbiage:
I believe a load your dirt was inadvertently delivered to (my address.) Please bring shovels and rakes and implements of destruction to retrieve it.
...but that seemed wordy.
Please note that everything has nothing to do with the Laphroaig. I'm already like this.
...but that seemed wordy.
Please note that everything has nothing to do with the Laphroaig. I'm already like this.
Here's The Sign:
So I'm gonna head out now to install the sign in the piles of dirt which are where they're supposed to be. If you don't hear back from me, just write the song.
***addendum: I feel it's important to mention that I made my sign using a piece of an old wooden rocking chair I'd picked up on the side of the road last year, and which had fallen apart due to weather.
...so you had to know that this was not the end. My friend Julie, with whom I sometimes share a brain, said:
You should stick some skeleton arms in the dirt pile!
Me: Yes. But which pile - mine or theirs?
Julie: BOTH!
Then I remembered the dollar store has skeleton hands.
You should stick some skeleton arms in the dirt pile!
Me: Yes. But which pile - mine or theirs?
Julie: BOTH!
Then I remembered the dollar store has skeleton hands.
So I went back to the dollar store, but on the way I stopped by a neighbor's house who had a bunch of things piled out for refuse pick-up, including GAS CANS. Two things of importance here:
1. I've been really good about *not* bringing home furniture.
2. I need a new gas can.
1. I've been really good about *not* bringing home furniture.
2. I need a new gas can.
The gas can currently in use while I mow the lawn has been chewed by something, probably the woodchuck (who seems a little indiscriminate and has big teeth.) I've been unable to find a new gas can at any gas stations or markets where I shop.
On a whim, I asked the neighbor...
On a whim, I asked the neighbor...
because this neighbor, too, has been making yard improvements (you see this coming, right?)
Me: Excuse me...do you need some more dirt, by any chance?
The neighbor was nice, and empathetic about the dirt pile, and offered to stop the contractor if he saw a chance.
Me: Excuse me...do you need some more dirt, by any chance?
The neighbor was nice, and empathetic about the dirt pile, and offered to stop the contractor if he saw a chance.
Me: It's okay. I put up a sign.
We said goodbye, and I headed off to the dollar store. I bought two skulls and three hands (so anyone who was counting would be confused.) I took the long way home so I could see if my sign was in place - it wasn't.
We said goodbye, and I headed off to the dollar store. I bought two skulls and three hands (so anyone who was counting would be confused.) I took the long way home so I could see if my sign was in place - it wasn't.
...so now I couldn't decorate the two legitimate dirt piles, because then I'd be guilty of harrassment. So I brought my skulls and hands home and did this:
Here's a better picture:
BUT WAIT! I almost forgot the piece d'resistence:
THIS ONE'S REAL. I found it in the yard whilst mowing. This is why artists keep weird shit.
THIS ONE'S REAL. I found it in the yard whilst mowing. This is why artists keep weird shit.
So now I'm sitting here enjoying candy corn and latté, one of my favorite holiday meals. May Halloween continue to bring people together. Cheers, y'all.
...but I just realized I also have a plastic mold in the shape of a brain...
Another partner in shenanigation, Coach Shipley, is an art teacher; he suggested I make Oobleck in my brain-mold. Oobleck is (besides a Dr. Seuss invention) a non-newtonian fluid - it's liquid until you apply pressure, and then it's solid. But when you release the pressure
it becomes liquid again. So it sounds fun and I may make some, but I don't think it's going to keep the brain shape once I release it from the mold. Also, it doesn't utilize the dirt in the front yard. I'm going to get some Jell-O and mix it with dirt. Back to the dollar store..
In the meantime, I'm distracted by this guy on Twitch who's streaming from his yard while he makes dirtballs. There are 23 other people watching with me: https://www.twitch.tv/cactusroom
He's also a musician, and said that making dirtballs is very similar to playing guitar.
He's also a musician, and said that making dirtballs is very similar to playing guitar.
On the way to the dollar store I saw 3 does in the yard. One of them was chewing magnolia leaves in such a way that a skeleton arm was smacking her in the head; she didn't care.
The dollar store didn't have anything useful, so I went to the market; I bought cider and donut holes for myself, and apples for the deer. I guess every day can't be a good dirt day.
Where i grew up in Michigan, there was a theme park called Deer Forest. Apparently the deer think I've made them a theme park, because they're also playing on the dirt pile.
So when I came back from the market, the landlords were home. That meant I needed to clear my side of the circular drive for egress. I brought in groceries, and decided to give the apples to the landlords instead of the deer. But they had left again already.
Tomorrow, dirtballs.
Tomorrow, dirtballs.
Somebody's given me another suggestion on what to do with the dirtpile. I'll have to talk with my landlord about it, but THIS IS VERY POSSIBLE.
The landlords didn't respond to that idea. But they did say I could post an advert on Craigslist, offering the dirt for free. Here it is:
@craigslistv required that I change my password before allowing me to publish the advert for my dirt.
So I made a new password that includes 2 cursewords.
Craigslist said that my password was too weak. So I used three cursewords. That worked.
So I made a new password that includes 2 cursewords.
Craigslist said that my password was too weak. So I used three cursewords. That worked.
I hope people don't think I'm joking about the free dirt just because it's decorated with skeletons. I'm willing to give away the hands, too.
OH, UPDATE: The One Real Bone is gone missing.
I checked @CraigslistV to see my advert, and RIGHT NEXT TO MINE is an ad for what was probably the source of my dirt. Should I contact them and ask them to take it back? Should I let it go? I'm not good at letting things go.
I decided to go ahead and contact the other dirtpile owner, to see if they know they left dirt at the wrong address and are contrite about it. I'm glad @craigslist is trying to avoid bots, but this is a damn lot of work. Nobody's going to answer my ad :(
I overcame the Captcha and texted the other dirt-giver. He answered really quickly.
Then he called me. He sounded agitated. But I explained that I didn't know who left a truckload of dirt in my driveway, and he became more sympathetic. I think he's concerned about the integrity of his field, so to speak.
UPDATE: I HAVE A TAKER!
...but don't get excited yet. It's just one response to the craigslist advert. If someone actually shows up to take the dirt, I'll ask if I can take a selfie for the thread.
...but don't get excited yet. It's just one response to the craigslist advert. If someone actually shows up to take the dirt, I'll ask if I can take a selfie for the thread.
and...craigslist. I'm sitting here now, wondering what kind of freak would use an advert for #dirtpile as a guise to creep, stalk, and murder...
was it the skulls? DID I JUST CAUSE MY OWN DEMISE?
was it the skulls? DID I JUST CAUSE MY OWN DEMISE?
@folkslinger, I sure hope you check your twitter feed before I meet my end.
OYEA -i forgot to tell you the landlord moved a slab of slate so I wouldn't drive into it. So I added skeleton arms.
Also a brain seems to be growing in the yard.
#dirtpile update:
1. I'm pretty sure it was foxes that took the one real bone. Photos of foxprints didn't come out well.
2. another email requesting #dirtpile location. I gave it, and asked they not show up tonight, as lighting is insufficient. No midnight shovels, please,sir.
1. I'm pretty sure it was foxes that took the one real bone. Photos of foxprints didn't come out well.
2. another email requesting #dirtpile location. I gave it, and asked they not show up tonight, as lighting is insufficient. No midnight shovels, please,sir.
Sir responded that he had no intention of disturbing anyone in the night. But he did, because just as I was falling asleep I remembered I'm to attend a socially-distant birthday, outside on blankets. Here's the part where we say PLEASE WEAR A MASK. I need to calculate...
...trying to decide whether to remove the skulls and skeleton hands, or bury them deeper in. That's a $5 investment there. To remind you, the dirt currently looks like this:
In the meantime, I'm getting ready for a birthday party. It looks to be about 20 minutes away - I was hoping it was nearby so I could just go and then pop back home to deal with dirt if Sir texted me that he was arriving. But do I sit home waiting for Sir, for naught.
Cake. No.
Cake. No.
OF COURSE, now that I've made a decision, everyone wants dirt. Okay, not everyone, but Sir and also Alex. I've asked them both to arrive before 3 if possible, because then I won't have to recalculate my plan.
...so I'll continue to get ready for the birthday party. in 15 minutes I'll be at http://twitch.tv/dannavarromusic in case you're feeling like being folky with us. It's a great bunch of fans. Also we listen to the music.
If nothing else, my hair looks nice.
...and as I start to roll out for the birthday party, I notice one of my tires is low. And I hear the tell-tale sound of a throw-out bearing about to throw out. I'm not emotionally prepared for this. So I bought a piece of cake and stayed home.
And Sir is here to pick up dirt!!
And Sir is here to pick up dirt!!
He's very proper, and explained he has some holes in his back yard which he'd like to fill up with dirt. I told him I never asked for this dirt and he can have as much as he needs. He may come back tomorrow for more.
Well. I thought the saga of the #dirtpile was winding up, but maybe not. Barry has written me requesting some of my dirt.
The way he said it makes me feel important. Like a tycoon. maybe I should put the skulls back.
The way he said it makes me feel important. Like a tycoon. maybe I should put the skulls back.
Now I keep jumping up and looking out the window with the cat every time there's a sound, because
1) it might be someone coming for dirt, and
2) I've learned my lesson - this wouldn't even be an issue if I'd gotten up and looked out when it was dumped in the first place.
1) it might be someone coming for dirt, and
2) I've learned my lesson - this wouldn't even be an issue if I'd gotten up and looked out when it was dumped in the first place.
I didn't have to worry - this #dirtpile saga is going to be the thread that did not die. Sir is back for another load of dirt, and Barry will be contacting me later in the week. And so I'm making a dirtball.
That's just the beginning. Here's a video by @cactusroom demonstrating closer to the end product: https://www.twitch.tv/videos/758607853
Day 7? of #dirtpile: there were six mourning doves walking around on the dirtpile. There's been at least one mated couple in the yard all season; one of them laid an egg next to my car last month. They invited friends over to see?
My #dirtpile brings all the doves to the yard...
My #dirtpile brings all the doves to the yard...
Day 8 (I think) of #dirtpile drama: one week in, I witness a solid taker of dirt. I peer out the window, just to see. He takes off a sweatshirt; underneath he seems to wear both suspenders and a belt on his shorts, and adjusts these to untuck a bright orange T-shirt. He digs.
He's sent me a text that he took one truckload of dirt, and may come back tomorrow if he needs more.
*Now* it would be funny to bury a skeleton hand, just in case.
Hey! I could fit a body in there... #Winning #dirtpile
*Now* it would be funny to bury a skeleton hand, just in case.
Hey! I could fit a body in there... #Winning #dirtpile
Okay, shit's getting weird again. That dark spot concerned me so I started to dig around it and see what it might be. It's bigger than I thought... woolly mammoth bits? #tarpit ? #Lovecraft 
?? Eep.
?? Eep.
(also, yeah, that hand is now buried in the hole 
)
)
Day 9 of #dirtpile: no action out front, but I've got a pretty solid little dirtball here. So I'm sitting here listening to @nickcutroneo wax anatomical on guitar arpeggios (he's a great teacher) while I burnish my dirtball to make it shiny.
Day 10 of #dirtpile: no action forthcoming on removal. The craigslist responses have petered out, and neither Sir nor Suspenders have showed up for a second load of dirt.
My dirtball is looking nice, though. This cricket agrees. He looks like he's doing guitar exercises.
My dirtball is looking nice, though. This cricket agrees. He looks like he's doing guitar exercises.
That sweet baby cricket finally launched himself over my computer monitor and disappeared. I just saw him, or maybe a sibling, cruising across the floor near the bed. I tried to capture him, to put him outside, but he's not interested in liberation. I admire his bravado.
I need to go check the mail, so I've been looking everywhere for my sunglasses. Suddenly, I remember where I've seen them:
IN THAT PICTURE, BEHIND THE DIRTBALL AND CRICKET.
IN THAT PICTURE, BEHIND THE DIRTBALL AND CRICKET.
...and as I add the Alt-text to the picture (which I confess I'm really bad at remembering to do) and I list items in the picture:
cricket and ball of dirt, behind which is a spoon, a baggie, a lump of dirt....
I feel I need to disclaim that this is not a crack scene.
cricket and ball of dirt, behind which is a spoon, a baggie, a lump of dirt....
I feel I need to disclaim that this is not a crack scene.
...and that creepy stump-thing is still in the hole in the dirt pile. I checked. I need to assure myself daily that it didn't get up and walk away.
Day 10 of #dirtpile:
craigslist is still cranking, if slowly. Dil wants to come tomorrow morning to take dirt. Yes, please, Dil.
Dil means (heart) in Hindi/Urdu. I do not tell Dil I know about this. Perhaps I should. Maybe he could bring me some home-cooked leftover biryani.
craigslist is still cranking, if slowly. Dil wants to come tomorrow morning to take dirt. Yes, please, Dil.
Dil means (heart) in Hindi/Urdu. I do not tell Dil I know about this. Perhaps I should. Maybe he could bring me some home-cooked leftover biryani.
Day 11 update of #dirtpile: sure enough, Dil has come and gone. I'd forgotten all about him, steeped as I was in a reverie about robots gone missing. No, really - writing another fairytale for us. So I missed the opportunity to go talk to him and maybe get a dirt selfie.
OOH! An hour later I hear a noise out front again - Dil has come back for another load of dirt. I'm very close to wrapping up this first draft of my story. It's about a robot who gets fed up and leaves his job.
The creepy stump-thing is still there, and doesn't seem to have an arm sticking out of it. Good news.
Oops. I forgot I left a skeleton hand in the #dirtpile. I wonder if Dil found it.
Oops. I forgot I left a skeleton hand in the #dirtpile. I wonder if Dil found it.
Update: So remember when I was complaining that the person who emptied my desk had stolen all my Sharpies?
I have at least 3 in my purse <3
I have at least 3 in my purse <3
So this thread finally comes to an end: I have a friend who doesn't need anything, and we celebrate our birthdays together. She doesn't want me to give her anything, but I must, right? So I gave her a story, and a dirtball.
