I always like sending postcards to my relatives at Christmas: me in a bikini, Ralph grilling a steak, the dog surfing. Ah, the perks of living close to the Equator. The only problem? Ninety degrees in mid-January. In order to beat the heat, I once dove in a pool on the first hot day. And couldn’t feel my legs for two days!
So crank up the a/c, right? Well, sure, but I’m cheap, and cheap means I’m going to try to fix it first. How hard can it be, I reasoned.
So I put on my kickaround clothes and scrambled up that rickety wood ladder to the attic. The crawl space was crowded with decorations of Christmases past and….is that a body? I creeped closer to the blackened object. It was dried up like a prune and dusty. I prodded it and stifled a scream when