Journal: Cleaning, Scanning, Driving... Rinse, Repeat...

 

Tuesday, I washed a couple of loads of clothes and a sink full of dishes, paid some bills, and then hurried off to finish cleaning Loren’s house.  My own house is suffering from neglect!

I have no idea how people get a house ‘ready to sell’ in, oh, say, three days.  Or a week.  How can it possibly be a thorough job, I wonder? 

It makes me want to box people’s ears when they say, “You mean you aren’t done yet?!” 

Yeah, come over here and say that, or git bizzy and help.

On the other hand, they’d probably be total blunderbusses, and we’d have to touch up the walls and resweep the floors after they left.

When I got to Loren’s house, Robert nearly had the garage cleared out.  He took one or two more things, such as the microwave that had been in the lower level, to our huge church basement, where they store things that people – especially young couples who will be getting married, for instance – might need for their homes. 

I cleaned chandeliers and lights that day, but not the one high over the front door, or the one in the high-ceilinged living room.  I think Robert must’ve used the vacuum on them when he was painting (except for the chain on the crystal one; it looks baaaad... so, since I can’t reach it, I shall from now on refuse to look at it)... and, anyway, those chandeliers look pretty good, and I’m not going to worry about them.

I swept and dusted and mopped the laundry room next, including the white cupboards Larry took off a wall in the downstairs family room and rehung in the laundry room.

Fortunately, I opened a door on one of those cupboards before I started on the chandeliers – and there I found the box containing the ceiling fan duster!  Exactly what I needed.  (Yes, yes; I was the one who put the box into the cupboard some time back; but we don’t need to talk about that right now.)

I tried putting the shelf clips we got at Lowe’s into the cupboard, but they were 5/16” and should’ve been 5mm.  Hmmm... 5mm in fraction is 13/64”.  5/16” = 20/64”.  That means the clips we got were 7/64” too big (or 2.7781mm too big, if you prefer).

I gave serious effort to cramming a clip into one of the precut holes anyway. 

It wouldn’t go. 

I gave up and put the clips back in the package to return to Lowe’s.

While I worked in the house, Robert power-washed the garage floor in anticipation of painting it Thursday.

Bobby and Aaron came and got a white cabinet that had been in the basement; they’ll put it in their laundry room.

You know, I think I must enjoy cleaning, because I regularly find myself humming and singing whilst I’m a-workin’.  😄 🎶

Robert had also cleaned the outsides of the downstairs windows that are under the large back deck.  They looked nice, but now all the things that were under there could clearly be seen.  😧

As soon as we had a day with nicer weather, I would check out those things.  If it happened to be when Larry was there, I thought what I’d do would be to point dramatically in some direction, any direction, and gasp, “Oh, LOOK!” – and while Larry looked, I’d pitch all that stuff into the garbage, as fast as I could. 🤣

I am soooo done with stuff.  But he is not done saving stuff.  The thing is, you understand, the stuff he saves... he brings home to our house!  🤪

My mother's parakeet, June 2002

When I got home, I put away a whole gob (definition:  heaps and mounds) of bottles and cans and jugs containing all manner of cleaning agents.  I don’t have space for all this stuff!  Therefore, I will have to clean and clean and clean and clean my house in order to use it up.  😉  I put away three loads of clothes, and threw the towels and cloths I used at Loren’s house into the washer along with Larry’s work clothes.

And then he had the audacity to come home and put more dirty clothes right back into that nice empty hamper!  Tsk.

My hands and fingers are sore (as is a good deal of the rest of me) from all this hauling stuff out of Loren’s house and from all the cleaning. 

Wednesday was as blustery as promised, with wind gusts over 50 mph.  One of our rural radio announcers said, “You’d think it was election day, as windy as it is around here!”

Not a very good day for working outside, especially since our midweek church service was that evening, and I didn’t want to look like a wreck and ruin, and have earaches, too!

Late that night after we got home from church, I decided that the weather service had somehow installed a bug in my computer, because I no sooner played a YouTube video of wild lightning and thunder than lightning flashed and thunder crashed right outside my very own window, and WeatherBug chirped an alert!  I clicked on it – and it said ‘No Alerts’.  Huh?

Within seconds, WeatherBug chirped again.  This time, we really did have an alert – a wind advisory and a fire weather warning.  There must’ve been a WeatherBug glitch, with that first chirp.  Funny that it happened exactly when the thunder crashed.

Thursday was no better; in fact, it was worse:  we had gusts over 60 mph that day.  The temperature crept up to 41°, then quickly came back down again.  It sounded like the house was falling apart.  Part of the day we had a rain and snow mix.  So much for cleaning in Loren’s yard.  I stayed home and scanned pictures for the second day in a row.  At least the carpet-layers were able to work in Loren’s house.

Delphinium, August 2002

That evening, I was looking at some YouTube videos of caves and caverns.  There were various carvings and paintings on some of the walls, with quite the varied ideas of how they got there and who did it.

Did you ever look at petroglyphs and hieroglyphics and think, The Aborigines’ toddlers drew those.  Or Ruby the Artist Elephant.  Nothing to get all agog about. 

In the Old Testament books, there are many cases where, when the people turned away from God, their skills diminished – including their expertise in silverwork, goldwork, the construction of musical instruments and implements of warfare and husbandry, crafts such as the sewing of clothing, embroidery, and weaving.  Remember the times when battles were looming, and they didn’t have their own weapons? – and they didn’t even know how to make them! 

I look at petroglyphs and hieroglyphics, over which scientists and historians expect me to be all astonished and awed, and think, Those are the stupidest-looking things I’ve ever seen – and it’s because people rebelled against God and refused to learn, and therefore, generation after generation, their knowledge decreased, until they were barely capable of drawing an ugly stick-person slaughtering an even uglier stick-woolly-mammoth.

Moses didn’t write in hieroglyphics, after all, nor did he do hieroglyphics on those tablets of stone.  The old Biblical writers knew Hebrew and Aramaic, and they had perfect spelling and grammar and punctuation, too, for, in the beginning, God taught them, and they passed the knowledge down to their children.

Hmmm.  I suppose I should now put on a safety helmet to protect my hapless pate from the rocks archeologists and paleontologists will be pitching at me.

But... I’m done running down ancient ‘artwork’.  I must scan photos. 

Last week’s story of the plumbers reminded me of the time we called for the plumber, back when we lived in town, as there was an emergency of watery proportions somewhere in the house.  The plumber arrived at the door at suppertime. 

Hester, age 4, ran to the screen door, peered out, and then, assuming, as most 4-year-olds do, that sound waves travel away from the person about whom they’re talking, she shouted at the tip-top of her voice, “MR. ROOTER TOOTER’S HERE!” 

(Another fairly common phenomenon:  the smallest child in the house often has the biggest voice pipes.)

I went to the door and let the man in.  He followed me through the kitchen, gawking around unabashedly.  Eight children sat around the table (the ninth had not yet made her appearance earthside).  Mr. R.T.’s eyes and mouth simultaneously opened wide. 

Then, “Are all these yers?!” he demanded in a nasal tone.

“No, we just rent them for suppertime,” I told him. 

Then one of the kids snickered, and that set the others off.

The man decided I surely must be kidding, and intoned, “Heh heh heh.”

I pointed him in the direction of the clogged commode, and he slouched off, stomach first.  (He wasn’t overweight; he merely had bad posture.)  (We afterwards found ourselves a more refined Rooter Tooter.) 

Oh!  Look at this!  Tim Rickard has been reading my journal!!

At a quarter after four that afternoon, it sounded like the house was being sandblasted.  I looked out the window, and discovered that it was sleeting like everything.  As I was upstairs, I could see the tiny pebbles of sleet hitting the lower eaves and then bouncing and tumbling down them.  There was already a thin buildup on the windowsills.  The sleet melted when it hit the ground.  The wind had ‘died down’ to 54 mph by then.

Friday, I was looking through my jewelry box, and I came upon three pieces of my father’s silverware from about 1916-1917.  A few days earlier, Lydia had asked for a piece or two from my silver tea set for Jonathan, 8, to take to school Monday to go with a report and presentation he was to make, but I couldn’t find the tea set.  I have a vague suspicion I gave it away.

Upon finding Daddy’s silverware, I wrote to Lydia, “Hey!!!!!!  I just found Grandpa Swiney’s silver baby utensils! – one long-handled spoon with a small bowl for an infant, and a fork and spoon with a larger bowl and with short handles suitable for a toddler.”

Jonathan will have something very special to add to his exhibit!

Curious, I looked up similar silverware, and found some on Etsy for $75:  Antique Baby Spoon and Fork.  I had never seen the silverware as I grew up, and wouldn’t have known whose they were, had not my sister Lura Kay known.  We found them when we were cleaning out our mother’s house.

That evening, we took Ethan and Josiah, Teddy and Amy’s children, their birthday gifts.  Ethan is 18 today; Josiah turned 12 on the 7^th. 

For Josiah:  a stealth fighter jet that sits on a stand, a big hardback book of cars, a book of State quarters (all four quarters are filled in), and a pocketknife/penlight that looks like a key.

For Ethan:  a clock that looks like a chrome wheel with wrenches for the hands, a hardcover Haley’s Bible Handbook, a book by Charles Spurgeon, a 1976 bicentennial silver dollar, and a pair of jersey work gloves.

Tabby

After that, we went to look at the carpet at Loren’s house.  It’s a plush, medium gray, very nice.  Now that the old red oak living room flooring is covered, making a lot less red oak to look at, the new gray kitchen/ dining room flooring doesn’t look nearly so jarring against the red oak trim and cupboards.  Fortunately, it’s considered stylish to combine wood colors and types these days.  Maybe not with quite so much, uh, ... stark contrast; but it’s all right.  Anyway, it never was tasteful to have floors, cupboards, and trim all the same hue and the same kind of wood, despite what some who otter know better recommended.  So now the house is somewhere in between fashionable and almost fashionable. 

I’ll go out there and take pictures tomorrow, when it’s supposed to be -------- oh, mah woid!  The weatherman says the temperature will get up to – get this – 84° tomorrow.  It’s 63° today, and, amazingly enough, the wind is blowing steady at only 11 mph.  Wednesday it will be back down to 48°, so they say.

As we walked through the house looking at it, I looked out the front window – and suddenly realized that the big, pretty Douglas fir tree on the south side of the front yard was down!  The roots had come right out of the ground.  That F1 tornado that went through back on December 15^th about a mile from Loren’s house not only took down a fir tree on the east side of his property, but weakened the entire row of Douglas firs and Blue spruces on the south.  Most of them were leaning a bit.  We hoped their roots would resettle, and they’d be all right.  But the 60+ mph winds of the last couple of days had been too much for this tree, at least.

Larry filled the enclosed cargo trailer he’d towed out there with things such as a large generator, gas-powered weedeaters, shovels and rakes, etc.  I got Stuff and Things off the deck and then under the deck, most of which was trash.  It might not have been trash when it got stored there, but it was certainly trash now.  I didn’t have to distract Larry from anything I threw away, after all, as there were things like old planters, broken bird feeders and bird houses (about a dozen wren houses!), and he has no hankerin’ after that stuff.  😄

After all the cleaning at Loren’s house, I intend to pitch out about 50% of my own Stuff and Things.  Well...  maybe only 49%.

{Aside to the theater audience:  Do you think rubbing Dr. Teal’s foot lotion onto one’s hands will turn one’s hands into feet?}

We weren’t far out of town Saturday on our way to see Loren when Larry started falling asleep, despite the NoDoz tablets.  So I drove the rest of the way.

Last week Loren said to us (again), “I still don’t have my wallet!” 

I said, “Hmmm,” in an intelligent tone.

Then he said, “I get $45 in benefits each month” (of course he gets considerably more than that, but his comprehension of money continues to fail) “so could you get that from the bank and bring it to me?” 

I made noncommittal-but-sorta-agreeable noises.  “At least you don’t have to buy food or anything!” I remarked.

“That’s true,” he agreed, and gestured around the room.  “And I don’t have to pay a red cent for this place!”

We’ll let him go on under that delusion.  No harm in him thinking that, and a lot of harm if he should know the truth of the matter.  He’d be awfully upset at the cost of the nursing home, upset that we had taken him there (he might suddenly remember we did that, in the trauma of the moment) and upset that he can’t get out (and he’d doubtless renew his efforts at trying), and, knowing how he remembers the exact amount that was in his wallet the last time he saw it, he’d likely remember the exact amount that is withdrawn from his account each month to pay for the nursing home.

I talked about the pictures in the album Loren was looking at, and he had soon forgotten all about that $45/month he wanted us to bring him.

Later, I asked Larry, “What do you suppose he would do with money, if we gave him some?”

Said Larry, “Play poker!”

Haha  Loren has no idea how to play poker.  (Nor do they play poker at the nursing home.  Or at least I don’t think they do.)

Loren didn’t say a word about money, when we visited him Saturday.

As we walked in, we spotted him heading into one of the sitting rooms with two or three others.  So we hurried on past and went into the still-open dining room.  I found a young nurse who was cleaning the room and asked if it was okay if I played the piano, telling her, “My brother Loren is right around the corner in the sitting room, and I want to surprise him.”

She laughed, “Sure!  And you don’t need to ask; you can play the piano anytime you want to.”

I played the piano.  I started with On the Jericho Road, continued with On and On We Walk Together, then Marching to Zion.  A few of the residents – and even some of the visitors – clapped.   The wife of Loren’s roommate pushed her husband in a wheelchair through the dining room, grinning at me and doing a little jig in time to the music.

But Loren did not show up, as I had expected.  I stopped, got up, and peeked around the corner.

He saw me immediately, made a surprised face, and started laughing.  “I told her” – he pointed at a lady beside him – “that whoever was playing that piano could play just like my sister Sarah Lynn does!”  😄

We talked for a while, and I showed him pictures of new babies on Instagram – our grandchildren and a few great-great-nieces and nephews.  Then, because a couple of people asked, I went back into the dining room and played a few more songs on the piano.

After telling Loren goodbye, we went to Lowe’s to exchange the too-short and too-wide kitchen light panel and the too-big shelf clips.  Of course I had forgotten the receipts.  But they gave us our money back in the form of an instore merchandise card, without acting the least bit suspicious.  We look so honest and innocent and sincere, you know!  😉

We went back to the light panel aisle – and, as I’d feared, we found no panels that were any longer than the too-short one we’d gotten last week.  The man who was helping us looked at the light frame Larry had carried in, looked at the panels, looked at the measurement description on the shelves – and pulled out one of the panels anyway.  He put it next to the frame.

The length was perfect. 

We were wondering ‘what on earth’ when another employee came along with the panel we’d brought back to the store, and slid it into its former place.

“That’s the one we just returned,” I pointed out to the onlookers at large.

They thought about it for a moment, and then the man who was helping us slid the panel back out and lined it up with the panel he had originally pulled from the shelf.

The one we’d returned was at least an inch shorter than the new one.

“Someone must’ve cut it wrong and returned it as ‘new’!” the man exclaimed.

The other employee nodded in agreement.  “I’ll get this out of here,” he said, and carted it away.

Employee #1 took us to his Plexiglas=cutting station, and cut the light panel to the correct width for us.  Larry carefully put it into the frame.  It was a perfect fit.

Next, the man found some nice gold metal shelf clips in drawers for us.  The employee who sold us the too-large clips (our fault, not his) hadn’t even known about those drawers, I don’t think.  These will be much better than those cheap plastic ones.  I probably should’ve gotten enough for every shelf in the kitchen; but I’m not that ambitious.  After all, they’ve been okay up until now; it was only the shelves in the cupboard by the back patio door that collapsed, and that was because all manner of heavy jars and bottles of ‘health supplements’ had been stored on them.  One bottle had tipped over and leaked all over the bottom of the cupboard.  Instead of looking like a piece of fake wood, it now looks like rumpled contact paper.  That, too, I shall ignore if possible.  (I did thoroughly scrub it.) 

Next, we went to Hobby Lobby.  I got a couple of dry erase markers, since the ones I got a couple of weeks ago at Lowe’s have gone AWOL, along with the shower cleaner spray.  Where’d they go?? 

“You’ll find them, now that we bought more,” said Larry.

“No,” I disagreed, “We’ll have to buy shower cleaner spray, too, in order for that to happen.”

We looked for drawered organizers to sit on our table and corral the jetsam and flotsam that the Shoemaker’s elves put on it each night while we’re sleeping, but didn’t find any.

Then off we went to the Railcar Modern American Kitchen.

Larry ordered a medium-well-done 10-oz. steak with a baked potato, and French onion soup on the side.  The steak arrived pink as pink could be. 

“Mooooo,” said Larry, cutting into it.

“Ask them to cook it longer!” I recommended, thinking, Salmonella!  Clostridium perfringens!  E. coli!  Listeria monocytogenes!  Campylobacter!  But Larry said it tasted excellent, not a bit ‘uncooked’, and was tender and easy to be chewed.

So he chewed on.

I ordered a Railcar Wagyu (‘Wagyu’??) Burger with Truffle fries.  The burger was described thusly on the menu:  Red Top Farms Ground Short Rib, Bacon Apple Jam, Red Onion, Romaine Lettuce, Jalapeño Cheese, Garlic Aioli with Honey Chipotle Mustard.  

I also ordered a ‘Famous Chopped Salad’:  Heart of Romaine and other Organic Mixed Greens (sounds scary), Figs, Almonds, Honey-Roasted Walnuts, Cucumber, Red Pepper, Heirloom Cherry Tomato, Red Onion, Cabbage, and Honey-Lemon Dressing.

Oh, and we had Pretzel Crusted Jisa Cheese Curds as an appetizer.

Fact:  I invariably order waaaaay too much food for myself.  Ah, well.  At least they have to-go boxes, and we wind up with food for another meal.

Hey, whataya know, there are prices on their online menu!  There were none on the laminated menus we were handed in the restaurant.  That’s always scary.  We know when there are no prices on the menu that the bill is a-gonna be too high for the likes of us.

We will have to get our suppers from the coolers in convenience stores for the next two Saturdays, in order to make up for it.

Their website says they are located in ‘Ohama’.  Ohama. 

Editors and spellers of the world, UNTIE!!!

On our way home, I reached into the back seat to plug my tablet into the inverter, and suddenly there was a POP in an upper rib that was being pressed against the edge of the seat.  It didn’t break, but it did tear some cartilage.  And wouldn’t you know, I started getting a slight cold later that night.  Coughing, sneezing, and blowing my nose hurts!

The rib isn’t as bad as the one on the other side that had the same thing happen – twice – last autumn.  Thank goodness I’ve got the cleaning done at Loren’s house.

Last night, I ate the salad from Railcar for supper, along with the last quarter of the Railcar Burger.  I put a handful of mixed nuts into the salad, and left the truffle fries for Larry.  He warmed them up and put salsa on them.

You know how when you sign into various websites there are boxes you have to check that say, “Please let us know you are a human, for security purposes”? 

Isn’t that an error?  I mean, after all, it’s humans who cause all the security issues, right?

Last night we again went Loren’s house, where Larry put out a heap of trash, as the garbagemen come on Monday mornings.  He also filled the back of his pickup with a load of trash which we took to the dumpster at Walkers’ shop.

While he did that, I put the new shelf clips into the cupboard by the back door, and then set the shelves in place.

I was going to remove the curtain-rod clips on the bedroom French doors and reposition them, as the lace curtains shrunk a bit when I washed them; but I couldn’t get the nails out with my little pair of pliers.  However, Larry managed to strrrretch the curtains enough that, after inserting the rod into the very bottom casing instead of the next one up, he was able to slide the rod onto the clips.  The curtains no longer have a small ruffle at the bottom, but who’s going to ever know or notice?

I do hope, after stretching those curtains to fit, they don’t wait until the new owners are peacefully sleeping in their lovely new bedroom, and then suddenly release their grip on those clips and go ka-twang-ang-anging through the room to envelope said peaceful sleepers in cloying folds of lace.

No, we are not selling a haunted house.  But we are boobytrapping it!

I gathered up the last few dishes we kept in one cupboard for when we ate there, got the utensils out of the drawer, and started to make off with the dishwash detergent, then thought better of it.  Perhaps that should stay until the house is sold.

Larry found an old Singer sewing machine (maybe a featherweight; it was dark outside, so I’m not sure) under Loren’s back deck, of all places.  🥴😵‍💫😱😬😕😑😫😖

There’s a little gold nameplate on the front reading ‘Statewide Sewing’ – so they got it from a friend who used to sell sewing machines in town.  The machine itself is beautiful, with all the gold decals in good shape ---- but the wooden base and the case is totally ruined.  Good grief!

A restored wooden base alone can cost $200-$250.  Singer Wooden Base

And the entire case?  $400-$600!  Singer Sewing Machine Case of Tigerwood

There’s a common grackle at the suet feeder, making his low-pitched squeaky noise, and looking all around the deck nervously between bites.  He probably remembers there were cats here last year.  Nowadays, Tiger is most often indoors.  There are strays around, though.

A lot of people hate grackles, but I like to watch them.  They’re one of the more intelligent birds, and their eyesight is exceptional.  Their black feathers shine in the sunlight, so that they look more purple, indigo, cobalt, emerald, and burgundy than black.

The last load of clothes is in the dryer.  The litterboxes are cleaned out.  Why is the kitchen table always chockful of jetsam and flotsam??  Okay, that does it.

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Okay, I’m back!  Did you miss me?

I ordered some tabletop organizers from Amazon; they’ll be here on the 14^th.  But... what will I do with the items that are too large to fit into the organizers??

Yes, it is high time to begin clearing things out of my own house, whilst I am still capable of doing so.

,,,>^..^<,,,           Sarah Lynn           ,,,>^..^<,,,