You Will Not Defeat Me, House!

I hosted book club tonight. Not rugby book club. Food politics book club. I'm in two because I read that much. Anyway, as I was cleaning off counter space to make room for the potluck, I cursed the heavens because I accidentally knocked a paycheck in the crack between the cupboard and the wall. Not the cupboard and the movable fridge, but the cupboard and the wall.

The minuscule crevice where not even a virus or a bacteria could fit. Only a paycheck. Certainly not an arm or finger or even wooden tongs.

Several thoughts coursed through my mind at this point. In no particular order, they included: that client was so late paying me it's not even worth calling them for another check, now I will be covered with dust and grime when my guests arrive, this looks like a job for a bicycle spoke, it might be worth $150 to NOT get this check from the crack.

But I am far too stubborn to willingly concede a battle with my furniture. I went downstairs and procured a bike spoke while the tea water boiled and dinner warmed in the rice cooker. I smashed my face against the wall and jabbed and poked and illuminated the situation with Corey's pliable camping headlamp. Nada.

Glue! I thought. I should put glue on the bike spoke. Luckily, I had just purchased some glue to use with my nephew making Borax silly putty. I used half the bottle on the end of the spoke, hoping to nap the check. Instead, I got glue all over the cabinet, the wall, my fingers, and the tea kettle roared away in the background as the doorbell rang and my fellow readers arrived.

As we served dinner, we all determined a wire coat hanger was really more appropriate for this situation. I sat through our discussion partially distracted by the paycheck, which my friends were all pretty eager to see retrieved. I'm very glad they encouraged me to get it on principle. Such checks just cannot be left between the cupboard and the wall. This is a choice for weak people. I am strong. We ate chocolate tart and celebrated our resolve.

After they left, I found a wire hanger in the basement. It must have been Corey's--all mine are plastic from McLanahan's in college. I bent that sucker to form a very narrow hook-grabber, stuck the headlamp back in place, squished my face against the wall, and went fishing.

Many grunts, thirty minutes, many dust bunnies, and a squished fetus later, I retrieved the punctured, wrinkled, glue-speckled check. Victory is mine!

I shrieked so loudly the neighbors came to look in on me. It was only a celebratory whoop, but how were they to know? We shared a chuckle over my defeat of the narrow space. I am invincible. I am fantastic. Now to see if the PNC atm will still accept the thing tomorrow morning...