Poe is me

(but not really, it’s just the first title that came to mind)

Our weather this week has matched my mood–gloomy, overcast, occasional sprits of rain. Not helping matters any is my gimpy knee, and I’m not sure how that came about. Just one morning it hurt on my run and it hasn’t improved, despite an increased diligence with regards to foam rolling and stretching. But it’s October, and all that will change. Well, maybe not the weather. Or my knee. But definitely my mood. Why?

Poe!

This weekend a good friend (and fellow ice-hockey teammate) from college is having her Edgar Allan Poe statue unveiled in Boston! And I’m going!

Steff’s work is amazing. Click that link to see more. And I absolutely love that her Poe statue won the call for proposals, but that the organization was actually able to raise the money needed to make the sculpture and get it installed.

Even better that it’s Edgar Allan Poe. He’s one of my favorite poets/writers. I was an American Studies majors, and Poe is a huge part of that cannon. On Halloween, our beloved professor Bassett would read ghost stories in an unlit (save for candlelight) chapel, always saving The Tell-Tale Heart for last. Nothing is spookier than being read The Tell-Tale Heart on a cold Halloween in a dark and creaky chapel.

Until you’re a homeowner, in your new home, and you’ve hired a contractor to take down the wall between two bedrooms to expand the bathroom. And on Friday, some floorboards are pulled up, and your cat (spooked by the comings and goings of all the workers) jumps into the floor to hide, only to be closed in when the contractor nails down new floorboards at the end of the day. And then when you’re lying there in bed at night, all you hear is this scamper, scamper, scamper along the joists and these plaintive meows. All. Night. Long. To which your Mister, at some point in the middle of the night, turns to you and says, “this damn cat is just like The Tell Tale Heart.” Which it is. And the nighttime ruckus continues on Saturday and then on Sunday.

Monday morning, I greet two of the Mexican subcontractors at the door–my cat’s under the floorboards! He’s been meowing all weekend long! “Oh, dios mio,” and they quickly run upstairs, and I hear the two muttering something about a corazon. The contractor soon follows. And I tell him the same story. And his response? Oh my god! Just like The Tell Tale Heart!

Ah, the pleasures of connecting over cultural references!

About onthelamb

a knitter, a runner, a mother, a reader.
This entry was posted in family, travel and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Poe is me

  1. Pingback: at what point? | On the lam(b)

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