I spent several hours trapped in an open grave on Monday.
Well, in the rain and in a grave. Really, it was the keeper’s fault, I’m sure. There should be some kind of warning on these things. Rails. A polite sign maybe.
Anything but leaving a grave open for people to stumble in to while trying to figure out why they have a craving for funnel cake. It’s not even June yet. Funnel cake is a long ways off if you’re going to be getting it from the common State Fair supplier. This is a serious craving that might have ended in batter mixing, funnel creation (As I don’t own one. Who owns a funnel besides your grandma?), and deep frying in my own kitchen and that tends to cause house fires.
So you can see why I was distracted.
I ended up in a grave for three hours waiting for a caretaker to discover me, apologize and save me. When that didn’t happen, I had to call people. I actually worked my way through most of my phone list and got a steady stream of no answers thanks to the fact it was three in the afternoon on a workday before I resorted to the dreaded exboyfriend.
He saved me by driving down and reaching into the hole to drag me out while laughing and I hated him for being sexy. It’s a complicated relationship.
Now, I’m sick. Pretty sure I caught some grave virus and am turning slowly into a zombie, thusly the name of this entry. I’ll let the world know how that goes.