Places and names have been changed to give privacy to those involved.

The place had a haunted feel to it.  Perhaps it was still a case of the jingles I was entertaining from the phone that had gotten this all started. 

I was descending the stairs from the cattle auction ring when my phone alerted me of an incoming call.

“Hello?”

“Hello my name is Penny Barode and I know I still owe you money from the last job you did for me but could you please come look at something that is terribly wrong with my wiring?”  All delivered at maximum speed in a sooty voice that was sure to have been exhaling the last drag of smoke with it.

“Your name is what?”

“Penny Barode.  And I know I still owe you money, but I’ll pay for that right away if you’ll come look at my problem.”

“Okay, but I can’t recall that we have done any work for you or that you owe us money.”  

“Yeah, you did about a year ago.”

“Ah, okay.  Do you live in Sublette?”

“Yes.”

“At 205 Westslide?”

“Yes.  But could you come look at my problem?”

Now I knew who I was talking to and yes, she did still owe money.  Actually, had never paid a cent on the first work we had done.  It wasn’t a lot she owed, and I figured if worse came to worse I could write it off.  I had never gotten her last name and then lost her phone number after we did the last job for her and always wondered if my invoices were going through with just an address and first name on them.  But they must have gotten through alright.

“Okay, I’ll send someone out to take a look at your project and then we’ll make a plan on how to proceed.”

“Oh! Thank you so much.  Thank you so much!”

After Josh looked at the project, the plan to proceed was simple.  Get paid in full up front and we would be happy to do the job.

I called her back. 

“Penny, we can fix your problem.  We can be there tomorrow morning.  But before we start, we need to talk over how you plan to pay.”

“Yes, I’ll pay.”

“Okay.  It will cost around $1,200.  Are you able to cover that?”

“Yes.  I have some saved up, about half of it, and my Mom says she will pay the other half.  We’ll pay you right away.”

“Okay.  We will have the power off for quite a while.  When would be a good time of the day to do this?” 

“Anytime.  Well, wait.  My daughter may be home doing a Zoom.  Hold on.  Let me ask her.” 

“No, she says she goes to college tomorrow so you will have the whole day and the place to yourself.”

* * *

I hefted the tool bag while Josh rummaged about inside the trailer for power tools and supplies to do the job.  I paused after a couple of steps and looked whimsically at an off green Kia Soul parked on the side of the street.  I recalled as I stood there, a comment one of the boys had made about that make of vehicle.

“If you owned one of them, you could trade it off on something else and then you could tell folks that you had traded your Soul for what you were driving now.”

I walked on, parallel to a fallen down, paint peeling picket fence.  I entered the yard and paused again.  To my left a generic brand, electric push mower was still parked where it appeared to have stalled in the 5-foot by 10-foot clump of weeds its owner was trying to mow down.  In front of me, a scattering of cigarette butts lay, about as far as a finger would flick them, should the smoker have been sitting on the bottom of the broken-down wooden steps.  Tinseled glass caught my eye; cheap impulse buys that were just as impulsively jabbed into the ground here and there.  Yard adornments of the not so rich or famous.  I climbed the porch, leaning off level with it as I climbed and was arrested again in my forward motion.  Right against the other side of the porch was an above ground swimming pool.  Fetid water half-filled it.  Green scum and slime at least 2 inches thick floated in the water and clung to the sides of it.

Somewhere inside, dogs were barking frantically.  I opened the door and pushed in.  I had to push, because I was hit by a wave of ammonia that could almost be seen and definitely felt.  The two dogs were barking, bug eyed and scared of me, just inside the door.  I stood there for a bit, trying to acclimate to the stench and dark interior.  There was just barely a path that wound its way by the furniture in the living room and on through the kitchen.  Articles too numerous to mention and of varied description sloped upward on either side of the path.

Cats were everywhere. Most of them were orange with puss filled eyes. 

I was looking for the load center; Josh knew where it was, but he was still out at the trailer getting tools.  I suspicioned that since he had been here earlier, he wasn’t any too anxious to reenter.  I started my locomotion again, but the floor held on to my shoes, only giving way at the last instant with a loud sluksch sound.  Cat pee pooled here and there.  I presumed that was what held so tenaciously to my shoes as I walked across the floor. 

I got to the far end of the house and had found several fresh piles of cat poop, but not a load center.  I started in the other direction.

The last room on the other side of the house appeared to be a storage room.  Next was a bathroom, as cluttered and full as the other rooms.  The tub faucet dripped steadily; so did the sink faucet and toothpaste was smeared up the side of the sink.  The stained shower curtain hung at an angle and finally fell off at the end.  A hairbrush, full of hair, rested on a shelf near by the small vanity mirror. 

I got to the next door on my way back to the central part of the house.  From the looks of things this was the room that had the load center in it.  A storage room/closet/mechanical room, per se.  I threw the door open and stepped through the doorway, scanning the walls for the load center.

But the wall scanning was quickly halted as I saw, to my chagrin, the daughter, who was supposed to be gone all day, climbing out of bed.  My step through the doorway, into the smallish bedroom, had me rather too close for comfort.  A 1/3 second glance gave relief that she was fairly well covered.  I quickly backed out, calling out a cheery, “Good morning!” and pushed the door shut. 

But it kept going past shut. 

And by the time my panicked momentum had been arrested, I was face to face with the daughter once again. 

The door had no door jam, and I was now in a verbal jam.  I decided, in that 1/3 second, that spoken words were unnecessary and I quickly closed the door, gingerly latching it this time. 

We found the load center.  And more cats.  And more internally processed cat food.  But we got the job done. 

I called Penny when we were done, and she said she would have money for us when she got home.

“But only $400.  That’s all I could come up with between my mom and me.”