Lake House Abby

Greetings My Dear Frankie:

Please excuse me if I am taking a liberty by calling you Frankie. In my dimension, I am called Frankie by those with whom I have friendly relations, and I do hope we can be friends despite what I am about to detail to you.

Well, it’s like this you see. I was recently introduced to this interdimensional travel of sorts by another Abernathy Franklin. Bit cheeky that one, she materialized in my kitchen as I was drifting off to sleep and nearly gave me heart failure. She very briefly explained to me this ability we all seem to have to follow our heart chakra energy into other versions of reality. I don’t understand it all myself yet, or I would explain further to you. You know, in the event that you have not yet been made aware of this inter-dimensional travel yourself. Anyway, in my excitement to attempt this strange reality jumping, I seem to have found myself in my own desired reality, that is to say, your reality.

If I may, I would like very much to take this brief moment to congratulate you. It has long been my own life dream to live in a remote lake house, quite exactly like your lovely home. Well done. And may I also applaud what must be a highly lucrative writing career. I hope you don’t mind, I spotted the copy of your latest tasty tome sent by your agent and swiped it, partly out of curiosity. Though I do plan to give it my attention once I am home and look very much forward to giving you the shining review I’m sure it will deserve. That is, if I can manage to find your reality again and if you haven’t decided to murder me.

Now for the painful part. I do apologize sincerely in advance as I am sure this entire ordeal has caused a great deal of inconvenience. However, please allow me to explain.

Having found myself in your beautiful home, I proceeded to explore a bit noisily in hopes that I would not commit the same offense as the Abernathy who I had just met in my kitchen. However, loud as I was calling out “Hello” I was soon drowned out by the sound of a diesel engine. I find those enormous, roaring trucks to be offensively obnoxious, don’t you? Anyway, I followed the sound to the window and perceived it’s source. Your neighbor, George - who by the way is surprisingly charming despite his clamorous choice in vehicle - was about to back said vehicle onto your frozen lake (mostly frozen I suppose).

Spotting me at the window, George hailed me and I went out to greet him. He explained to me that it was his impression I was out of town, which I suppose you must have been. I casually asserted that I returned early, certainly not wishing to explain that I belonged to another dimension and actually hadn’t the foggiest what he was talking about. It was at this juncture that George shifted the conversation to your ice house. After providing me with the area weather report, he suggested the ice house ought to be removed from the ice given the unexpectedly warm spring that had evidently sprung. I thanked him kindly and assured him that I would remove the structure promptly, and he went on his thunderous way.

I fear, however, that I sent your diesel driving neighbor away in too much haste. I am not sure what skills you have acquired in your specific dimension, but for myself, I’ve learned the art of fishing only in summer temperatures and was thus unprepared for this task. Still, I did go about locating your truck and looking up tutorial videos. And might I take this opportunity to compliment your selection of heavy duty vehicle, which is far superior in both engine volume and body sleekness to George’s monstrosity. Again, lovely man. And again, my sincerest apologies.

Upon having backed your truck onto the lake, I set about securing the ice house to the vehicle in order to haul it safely ashore. Here, may I also praise your selection of french windows and doors for your exquisite home, the view of which from the lake is puzzle-worthy picturesque. But back to the narrative at issue.

After what must have been several hours of internet education and clumsy attempts, I had failed to find the appropriate method of connecting the ice house to the truck. Feeling defeated, I thought perhaps a small break was in order. I hope you will forgive my taking another liberty, but ice fishing turns out to be sweaty labor and I was in need of a shower and clean clothes. And might I say here, your wardrobe denotes impeccably classy taste. Once again, sincerely, well done.

As one would readily imagine, sweaty labor tends to also be hungry labor, so I helped myself to your kitchen. As one would also imagine, a full stomach and tired body cry out for rest, and I didn't think there would be any harm in relaxing for a spell on the sofa with a good book. Of course, your book I wanted to save for when I could give it full attention, so I perused your personal library and settled down with Adventures in Cryptozoology. While I found tales of bigfoots and dragons marvelously fascinating, I was rather exhausted and soon dozed off. No doubt my slumber was aided by the wonderful comfort of your sofa, which if I don’t say so myself, may be the most comfortable and fashionable sofa I’ve ever had the pleasure of napping on.

During my rest, I dreamed that some confounded delivery person was intermittently knocking and refused to leave. Still half entwined in dream Neverland, I managed to drag myself off the sofa and check the door. Perceive my chagrin when I opened the door to find no persons delivery or otherwise, and a continuation of that entirely foreign popping sound. As waking consciousness dawned in my sleepy grey cells, I heard then a ferocious splashing that called to mind some variety of water serpent I had been reading about in your Adventures in Cryptozoology. Of course, realization hit me like the Titanic hit the ocean floor and I dashed to the back of the house, out the french doors and towards the shore of the lake. Too late.

I arrived in time to see only the swirling waves and aftermath of the ice breaking, chunks of frozen debris bobbing in the water like miniature icebergs. In my utter shock, I nearly didn’t see the very top of the ice house chimney protruding from the water’s surface. I stood dumbfounded at the shore as the churning water settled and could see the red roof of your truck just beneath the icy surface. I considered that I could wade in and attempt to hold my breath and enter the vehicle. However, I confess I was not quite brave enough to experiment with starting up the engine underwater. I certainly am not able to hold my breath for very long, and I don’t have enough mechanical knowledge to be sure that underwater driving would not put me at risk of electrocution. I concluded that the entire situation ought to be left to a professional, which I am quite sure you must be.

Please, my dear Frankie, know that I am truly sorry about your stellar truck and, no doubt, high quality ice house. My only consolation is the idea that your profitable writing career also affords you the very best in vehicle and property insurance and your loss will be fully compensated. Perhaps there is a silver lining to be seen, since you do now have the pleasure of shopping for replacements. Given your other exemplary choices in home design and wardrobe, I presume shopping is something that brings you much enjoyment and wish you a wonderful time in procuring a new hearing tolerant truck and chic shack for winter fishing.

I do hope you can find it in your heart to accept my sincere apology and forgive me. For a first trip into a new dimension, this has been wildly more eventful that I anticipated. Please accept the assurance of highest regards.

Yours truly,

Another You