The title? Technically, there's no post for 12/02/07. So that blows NaBloPoYear. Damnit.
But, still I had to tell you about the Incident Over the Basement Stairs.
I am a great believer in gravity. This is why everything that needs to go into the basement is tossed over the ledge at one end of the basement stairs. (The basement stairs aren't the type that are behind a door, they just take up the wall on one side of the dining area. You can stand at the top of the stairs at put things in the basket that is designed for the top step, or you can accept that the things in that basket never get downstairs and instead, stand across from the landing at the top of the stairs, by the half-wall that keeps you from plunging to your death when you walk across the great room, and just toss the stuff over the ledge.)
I once thought this was lazy. Then I paid a surprise visit to Friend #5, the Uptight Friend, and discovered that you could indeed plunge to the bottom of her steps and land in a soft pile of clothing and then be suffocated. If we didn't have an upstairs laundry room my stairs would have looked like that in weeks, but instead, we only toss things that need to be stored.
I say "we." Gary hates it. I hate the basement. I love the gravity. Gary goes into the basement every day to play the drums, and he yells upward about the stuff at the bottom of the stairs, and I yell downward well why doesn't he put it away then, and this works for me.
Well, Saturday, Gary was being particularly fractious, and it didn't sit well since I was organizing the linen closet. Many linens were lost in the brutal purge. Some linens went to live in the basement. As I was headed to the basement drop-off ledge, he followed me, carping "BLAH BLAH! NEVER! AND YOU ALWAYS BLAH AND DON'T EVEN THINK OF TOSSING THAT OVER THE SIDE!"
I turned, fixed him in my steady gaze, held out my hand which was balancing the linens like a waiter's tray, and flipped my wrist. Linens belly-flopped to the bottom of the steps.
He looked at me. Suddenly his hand shot out and he slapped a bit of Tupperware off the ledge.
I, laughing, defiantly took a bag of candy off the table and threw it over.
He tossed The Kite Runner. Then he didn't wait for me to respond, because I was laughing too hard and because he had spotted the stuffed reindeer. He held it by its horns over the precipice. "Not the reindeer!" I screamed and grabbed it. Then I spiked it into the basement.
This is why I don't remember what the fight was about. Surprisingly he brought many of the things up later. But the linens are still sitting down there.