This is a true story. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Several years ago, I was invited to my friend EJ's bridal shower. It was held at one of her friend's house, in a neighborhood I'd been to before. My old church neighborhood. Down the street one way was my ex-boyfriend's house, the other way, the house we all used to hang out at. All the houses on this street are older, lived in houses. Not cookie-cutter, and not all big, but well-kept and lovely with flowering yards and adult trees.
I pulled up to the house, admired it, and went in. The party was already under way, and I'd missed the tour, but right on time for food. We ate on a porch out front, then did gifts. I had to excuse myself to the bathroom before dessert was laid out. I went inside and went straight to the bathroom, not needing directions. It wasn't until I walked out that I realized how strange it was that I knew where the bathroom was without asking. I stood there in the living room, sunken with an entire wall of books, and got that "been here before" feeling. I couldn't place it. Until I helped bring our dirty dishes to the kitchen and saw something strange. Right in the middle of the counter, there was a trivet-sized overlay of stainless steel.
"This is odd," I remarked to the host.
"Isn't it?" she responded. "I've always wondered why they put this here."
"It's covering a burn on the counter," I explained, suddenly realizing where I was.
Years before, this had been my friend Dig's house. One summer, I think we were all about twenty, his parents went on vacation and left him home. So obviously, we partied there that week. One night we were particularly loud. The cops came. They sat us all in the living room and talked while writing us tickets for underage consumption. They didn't confiscate the booze, however, just told us to keep it down, and then left. Best experience with the police ever, btw. Anyhoo, we proceeded to finish our drinks and were obnoxiously drunk. At one point, my friend Floyd decided he needed to make ramen. He opened the pack, poured it into a pan, added water, put it on the stove, turned on the burner, then went upstairs and passed out.
Floyd woke hours later, the house filled with smoke and everyone else sleeping, and remembered his soup. He ran down the stairs, turned off the burner and took the pot off the stove. The sink was full of dishes (like Dig was going to dishes while his parents were out of town...) so he set it down on the counter, not even thinking that it might burn.
I think Dig's parents were pretty inventive, covering the burn without replacing the entire counter top.
Oh. There was no point to that story. Just thought of it, is all.
And I finished my first draft a half hour ago.
Listening to: The Appleseed Cast "Lost Songs [EP]"