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Sunday, September 20, 2015


In all the Indiana Jones' movies, never have I seen one where he has to tackle the abyss that was the bedroom of my daughter. Never have I seen one that comes even close to the dangers that lurk under every box, in every draw or upon every shelf.  Never have I seen one where there is a chasm, so deep, it not only falls out of the other side of the earth, but it continues down and knocks out whatever galaxy is beneath ours!  

It was time to tackle the unknown, and whilst I had been scratching the surface, by storing knick-knacks in cupboards, or making an exhibition of ornaments, there remained many boxes that held enough useless objects that would force the 'Borrowers' to have a garage sale!  

As I lifted the first box on Monday morning, the familiar tune of the 'Indiana' movies, flooded through the room, and I began to wonder if it was in my mind.  I continued to pile one box upon another to create a space.  Accidentally knocking into the original box, to steady myself, as I lost my balance between the chasm I was creating, the tune started again.  Was this in my head?  

By the time Samantha (and Frank) arrived at my house, I was in the full swing of 'clear up', and was arbitrarily reprimanded for attempting to clean a room in my own house, as she had said she would take care of this. I admitted that I did remember, somewhere in the dark distant past, that she had said that she would go through all the boxes and throw out whatever was not useful or appropriate to her life at the time. However, the memory was so distant, it had fallen into the abyss and caused the meteor shower that had recently been observed! Failing to see the humour in my comment, she set to work and discarded many objects!  As she accidentally knocked into the original box, steadying herself, as she lost her balance between the chasm I had created, the tune started again.  I looked at her to see if she heard the same as me, and the response was, "It's the potato head!"  Apparently, the 'Indiana Jones Potato Head' was part of a collection that she had started many years ago, and although she was unsure as to the whereabouts of the whole collection, this was something that needed to be saved!  

Thirty minutes on Monday morning, prior going to work, saw more items being thrown into the trash than in eleven years of attempting to downsize.  However, as the room is the abyss, there hardly seemed to be a dent in the amount that was left!  It is one of those rooms where I just put everything knowing that there will be room for everything.  Not totally responsible for all the rubbish that is situated in the back room, as it is the bottomless pit, Samantha reminded me that there were a few items of mine, taking up the space that could be used efficiently.  I agreed that one or two objects could be released from the prison, and finally opened a box that contained my 'sound bar', a prize that I had won several years ago, but had not opened due to our continuing dilemma as to whether to relocate our living quarters! Once we chose not to move house, at least for the foreseeable future, the box containing the 'sound bar' had been placed in the abyss, and became inaccessible, without the help of the fire brigade, or Indiana Jones! Due to technological advancement over the last four or five years, this is now probably considered a museum piece! However, it was new to me, and I emptied the contents of the box that was retrieved from the depths

The 'Indiana Jones' theme sang out several times during the course of the thirty minutes, on Monday morning, as there was no option but to steady ourselves, as we lost our balance between the chasm I had created, and knocked into the box that contained the potato head that held the musical device.  It remained in my head all day, and well into the week.  

Although I felt that even 'Indie' could be of little help in the clearing of my back bedroom, (and it probably would have been his 'Last Crusade'!) I could have done with his help in many other areas! Where was the comforting sound of the theme tune, when I sat on the bench outside my office, Thursday morning, as I was speaking to my mother.  It had been a particularly long week.  I felt that by Thursday, there was a bottom to the pit.  I could see floor! A little bit at a time, areas of carpet appeared, and the quagmire was drying up.  Not so at the office!  Taking my coffee outside, whilst on the phone to my mother, I strolled up and down the car park. Mum was in good spirits and was telling me the story of her friend's friend, whose friend (are you with me) did not recover from a routine operation, and had consequently departed from this world. In trying to assimilate the level of friendship to my mother, which turned out to be non-existent, as I do not think she knew her friend's friend, let alone the victim, (digressing with such sweet sorrow!) I needed to take a seat, as the layers were so many that a sequel to the many sequels to the Raiders of the Lost Ark could have been built on the premise.  Resting my weary being upon the bench that was attached to the table, I found that as I made contact with the wooden seat, we both continued to fall to the ground!  The snap was heard half way down, and I found myself, (in my usual attire of business dress and high heels) with my knees under my chin, and derriere on the grass!  Looking around to make sure that no one was looking, and taking account of the injuries sustained to my pride, I walked to the opposite side of the table, and proceeded to repeat the performance, as the bench see-sawed!  'Dah dah dah dah', was heard in my head, but no one came to the rescue.  Not even a potato head!  

I was asked to complete an incident form, by the management agency, whom oversee our office building, after I reported the broken bench. I was sorely tempted to complete the section that asked, 'Were there any witnesses?' with the words, 'I hope not!', but instead I answered that I did not think so!  The section that asked if I thought there would be any 'consequences', to the incident, I felt should have been completed dependent upon whether there were any witnesses!  If indeed there were witnesses, then yes, there would be consequences, as I would find it hard to show my face in public again!  However, I simply wrote 'No' and continued.  "No", was written, and subsequently verbalised in the section that asked, 'Were the police called?  Was EMS called?' Again, I was tempted to ask if they were in need of a jovial situation to break the humdrum!  'Was Indiana Jones called', did not appear to be a section on the form!  

As the weekend finally came around, The Last Crusade appeared to be looming on the horizon.  Perhaps, 'looming', is not such a good word as it tends to indicate doom, and the Temple of Samantha was slowly losing the right to the noun!  I felt as if we were on the home stretch, despite home being a long way in the distance. However, the blot on the landscape was clearly visible!  We did not attempt to 'bin' anything on Saturday but took ourselves out to the shops as usual.  I attempted to use a gift card that was another prize not yet accessed, and found that it was not functioning.  I have never disbelieved the person at the front of the queue, who claims that their card is valid, and that there is no reason why the machine should shout 'denied' at the top of its electronic lungs, but there are many who whisper! I was at the front of the queue, attempting to use a card that would neither give me credit nor debit options, and the crowds whispers were less than quiet.  I told the shop assistant that I was going to have to contact the company (feeling the need to admonish myself) and wondered if they had an 'incident form' upon which I could let them know the consequences, or the injury caused.  'Dah dah dah dah', sang Mr Potato Head!  Would their incident form contain a section headed 'Was Indiana Jones called'. Eventually, I decided to put a stop to the entertainment and paid with good old fashioned cash!  The person directly behind me was not in a particularly patient mood, and pushed forward, thus not allowing me to complete my transaction at the appropriate spot. Samantha suggested I push the shopping cart back slightly, to stop them from encroaching upon my territory before I was ready to leave, but I thought that may cause another incident.  Instead, I did not call upon 'Indie', but started to talk, in a very strong accent, reminiscent (but perhaps not completely accurate) of a person from the north of England.  Understood by no one, including my daughter, everyone, including the shop assistant, took a step back, and I was able to complete my transaction without being breathed upon!  

After an incident free afternoon at the pool, counting my blessings, at being able to spend an afternoon in mid-September swimming and sitting in the warm sun, rather than looking at all things negative, Dana and I went out for a very enjoyable dinner.  Upon our return, I tried to use my card online, firstly using our own company website to 'pay a bill', and then at large department store, but I was told that the card was invalid.   I accessed the website for the 'prize' gift card, and called the number that was displayed. After several attempts to find a 'live' person, I was eventually (through default as the options kept repeating despite the number depressed) put through to an operator.  He asked many questions, mostly irrelevant. ("Are you calling from a cell phone?"  When I replied, "A land line", he asked, "Your house phone?"  I replied, "A land line", he asked, "Your house phone?"  You get the gist.  He blinked first!)  My occupation, age and shoe size were not his concern, nor was my mother's maiden name nor my husband's choice of motor vehicle!  He walked me through the 'activation process', which I had already completed, (I am not a museum piece yet, despite thoughts to the contrary,) and then told me that my address was incorrect!  Eventually, (again,) I was put on hold, for several minutes at a time.  Believing that there are occasions when people 'listen in' whilst I am being entertained by 'chamber' music, I remarked, loudly to Dana, that I was going to suggest to the people that had sent me the card, that I could not access the funds, and that they should consider using a different option for their prizes. Within two seconds, I was connected to a salesperson, who not only did not ask a lot of irrelevant details, but activated my card, properly!  'Dah dah dah dah', sang Mr. Potato Head!

I bought some cutlery online this morning, and plan to spend the remainder of the funds on my 'accessible' card at the weekend.  I had planned to spend the money on a canvas print.  Having won the prize, I thought it would be good to spend it on something significant, so I could point and say, 'I won that!'  (To myself of course; no one else is particularly interested!)  As I paid by alternative means for my canvas print, I can reduce the balance to nil on anything without feeling I have not taken advantage of the winnings!  Perhaps it is the Austin culture of 'Keep it Weird' that has made me think like I do....or maybe not! 

As Mr. Potato Head remains in the bottom of a box, and Indiana Jones is sitting somewhere in retirement (perhaps), I look forward to another week of attempting to find the rest of the room that was the Temple of Samantha, and reduce the doom level even more. Planning to win contests is a constant, and I hope that another tune enters my head in the near future!  However, this week certainly has been 'Me and Mr. Jones!' or perhaps to be more accurate, 'Me without the help of Mr. Jones!'  If there are lost arks, or crystal skulls found anywhere whilst continuing the never ending job, next week, I will put them where they belong, in .......... another story!

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