give that girl a ladder and a cause

Ahh ... Joan Jett, you irrepressibly androgynous rascal.

* * * * *

Almost flagged down a passing cop car this morning while walking to work.

There's a house in our neighbourhood (about three blocks away) that's a bit of a crazy house. Not *really* crazy, as in some old lady who comes out to throw cats at you, but crazy in a slow-mayhem kind of way. Two years to finish shingling the other half of the roof. Multiple ladders that seem permanently tied to the gutters. An uncovered motorcycle in the driveway. In winter. Various large and new-looking children's toys and equipment, scattered around the yard. A plywood addition. Tarp. Tools. A boot. Some wood. Only vague ideas about who lives there.

This morning a very angry and rough-looking girl (thin jacket, no hat, no gloves, tight black jeans over rooster legs) was circling the house and shouting. Jackie! Jack-ie! Jackie, are in you in there! Answer me! Let me in! Just tell me yes or no! Just tell me! YES OR NO, YES OR NO! And then she started moving ladders around, like she was going to climb up to a window.

I looked. And looked. And kept walking.

Around the corner, half-up the next block, along came a police car. I looked at their faces in the windshield, turned back to the house at the corner, motioned with my shoulders, then looked at them again. The cops looked back. And kept going.

I'll pass by on my way home again. If the house is a smoking ruin, I will not be surprised.


  1. Jeeze, it's only January 6th, and I believe this is the best blog post of 2010 that I'll read this year. I could be wrong, though.

  2. That reminds me of a crazy house near our old apartment, actually it was closer to the Timmie's way up on Princess Street going towards The Kingston Centee. It is always run down and always rotating tenants and always, ALWAYS has gross things on the porch. I'd tell my one friend from Queen's to meet me there just to see her stand there all freaked out by the site of the building.

  3. You should tell your readers the story of the seven-year-old who was smoking and sassing at his mom. That was near Skeleton Park, as I recall.


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