Be Gone Demons!

One Halloween when I was working at the coffeehouse in college, my fellow barista and I decided to dress up as an angel and devil for our morning shift. She spiked her short hair into two horns and wore a sassy red dress. I went for a disco look with a silver slipdress, wings and a glittery halo. Knowing how much our regular customers enjoyed our theatrics, we were really hamming it up that day. At one point, I tried to channel the famous quote from SNL's the Church Lady, and I shouted:

"Circumcise the demons!"

Yes, that's what I said. It took me a minute to realize I'd gotten the wrong "cise," in my oh-so-loud declaration. I should have said, "Exorcise the demons." But alas I yelled about penis surgery in front of all my customers. Then I ran into the kitchen and hid while laughing hysterically.

But that story isn't the point of this post.

The focus of this one is that I have an exorcism-warranting situation going on in my house.

Since I moved into the beautiful mid-century Hollywood Hills house I love, (I'm kissing up, Universe, do you hear that?) it has literally been one thing after another. First the roof leaked (even though it had NEVER done that before) on my grandmother's dining room table. Then the garage leaked onto her chairs I was storing there. The Internet also broke one night and Mr. W had to stay up until 1 a.m. to fix it so I could work from home the next day.

After Mr. W left for London, sh*t really started going down. The sprinklers wouldn't shut off. Then that pipe burst, warping the floors, infusing the house with wet wood stench, causing me to have to sleep with a loud fan outside my bedroom door for an entire week. Oh and we can't forget how Mr. W's bathroom cupboard door came off in my hand during the flood cleanup.

Monday morning when they came to take away the fan, I was overjoyed—finally everything was calm and I could exhale. And then I found gooey stuff in the freezer Tuesday. An entire pint of lemon sorbet had liquified. The freezer was broken! I was in the process of making a gorgeous BBQ chicken pizza when I discovered this issue, and when I went to pull the pizza stone out of the oven it cracked in half and my pizza fell upside-down on the oven door. I wanted to punch the frigging house in the face. And of course, I had JUST run the cleaning cycle on the oven two days prior.

I am now convinced that the house is either throwing a fit because it doesn't want a female in it, or I'm putting out so much nervous energy I'm short circuiting everything around me.

Mr. W ordered a repairman for the freezer (all the way from London while I was sleeping because he's sweet like that). I'm hoping he shows up with a Bible and shouts, "The Power of Christ Compels You!" a few times at the back of the fridge.

Just to be extra safe, I'm going to burn some sage in the house this weekend, though...