I’m having a little work done on my house this week. Part of it involves digging a trench alongside the house and excavating a pipe for the purpose of improving the waterproofing for my basement. (I haven’t had a water problem, and I intend to keep it that way.)
Overall, the work seems to be going well. Loren, the contractor, is fantastic and very efficient. And up until yesterday afternoon, there were no big surprises, just the usual quirks of New Mexico construction: “Hmm, that pipe isn’t on any of the drawings. Wonder who put it there, and why.” Which is pretty much par for the course in these parts.
But then, yesterday afternoon, he sent me a cryptic message.
“Look what I found stuffed inside the drain pipe,” he wrote. And attached this photo:
So, um… Yeah. That’s a pair of handcuffs.
Let me repeat that.
He found a pair of handcuffs stuffed inside a buried drainpipe attached to my house.
Loren (he of the Santa Fe backhoe) has described the moment of discovery in his comments on this blog post. Bones, indeed. Maybe we should consider ourselves lucky that the cuffs didn’t have part of a person attached to them. Because the ensuing investigation would inevitably reveal my house to be built on a former graveyard attached to a hospital for the criminally insane.
Theories welcome. The floor is open.