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Wednesday, June 21, 2006

When it rains, it pours…

I sit at my keyboard; sweat pouring off my brow and type out the events of the last 45 minutes… I do this both for your entertainment and for my sanity because knowing others understand my pain will be a great comfort.

As with many comic creators, I have amassed a large collection of said comics. Some 40 long boxes I believe. Now I have not purchased all of these on my own. At least 6 of them came from a friend who was on the verge of throwing away his collection and I had to intervene. Friends don’t let friends throw away comics. Another half dozen or more came from my wife’s attempt at becoming a comic retailer in a swap meet type location… so in truth, I’m not 100% sure of what is in all the boxes nor the care in which they were stored.

Now I’m a fan of Sean Connery… stay with me, this all connects… and had sat down to watch the AFI Lifetime Achievement Award to the Scotsman as my wife made a pilgrimage to a local convenience store for a Kit Kat. As I watched George Lucas in wittier words than anything in his last three movies; my wife burst through the door with the two words I hate to hear: “Oh Shit!” My wife is at time prone to hyperbole and an ‘Oh shit’ is as likely for a cat ate the paper to the house is on fire. So I sat in my chair watching the show as she raced past me and out into the garage. It wasn’t until the “Dan, you better come out here”, that I head out to see the cause of her grief.

As I entered the garage I was amazed at how it resembled a slip-and-slide from my youth. Soapy water was pouring out from behind the washing machine, arching past our second refrigerator and flowing freely between my air-hockey table and my stacks of long boxes. We shut off the washer and found the drainpipe was not living up to its name. So I made a call to the emergency plumber that we have used in the past and they quickly dispatched a ‘technician’ who is scheduled to arrive here sometime TOMORROW.

So we began sweeping the water out of the garage and then decided to assess the damage. The bottom row of long boxes… the same long boxes that the termite inspector just last week suggested I get off the floor… were drenched to about 3 inches up. I had to spring into action. Find a location in my full garage big enough for all of the boxes. Not an easy task but one I was able to accomplish. The I began moving the boxes to the dry side of the garage… after about three boxes my mind did the math: Fat man + 40 boxes + Hot stuff garage = Death.

So a quick call to my brother who raced over with his two boys and we got all the comic boxes moved and reached the bottom row to assess the damage. As I moved the boxes I had convinced myself that the bottom boxes would obviously be where I kept all my good comics. All my original Sin City, my autographed books, my favorite-never-to-be-replaced books. So once we got to the bottom, the air-hockey table became the triage center and books were unpacked. Amazingly the inside of the boxes were dry; all of them. We have moved quick enough to keep the water from soaking through to the comics themselves… even the boxes are probably salvageable if left to dry for a few days.

So I set here relieved that my collection is safe, worried about the cost of said plumber tomorrow and smelling rather ripe from the sweating… but then again, my drain is clog so I won’t be getting into the shower till after said plumber shows up tomorrow. I think I’ll stand REALLY close while he’s working so he understands my displeasure at the wait.


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