Monday, July 17, 2017

Crap



As if putting every blessed thing we own into a box, and then cleaning every blessed space where those things sat isn’t enough fun, we’ve had visitors to the back yard today. 

          We have a septic system since our neighborhood can’t get town water or sewer services, sitting as it does on the base of the town’s small mountain. We truly love our well water, but our feelings about having a septic system have been pretty noncommittal. Those feelings took a major turn south today.
          We failed Title 5, the statute that regulates the installation, use, and sale of septic systems in our state. Here we thought we’d breeze right through it, what with just the two of us living here and then being away for the bulk of the winter, with not one flush since January 1st.
          The happy news: our tank is deteriorating and the pipes leading to the leach field are crumbling. As it was, we thought we might make a tiny profit off of the sale of this house – maybe enough for a good dinner out, or maybe new flip flops for the beach.
          Now we’ll be entertaining large men and their larger machines as they excavate the yard along with whatever cash we’d hoped to spend on something frivolous like food.

Friday, July 14, 2017

Real Estate Glamour



It’s 60 degrees and raining – not very July-like – and so today will be a good packing day. After our flurry of whipping the homestead into a state of unrealistic tidiness for all the real estate photos, I may even welcome the return of boxes everywhere.
          Yesterday we sat with the real estate lady and sorted through documents for a good portion of the morning. I had on a more presentable pair of black shorts and a new-ish tee shirt, now that I had a reprieve from the back-breaking work of shoveling mulch, handwashing the green film from the shadier parts of our siding, and vacuuming and scrubbing floors.
          Before beginning the heavy paperwork, we settled at the kitchen table with her iPad and viewed the photos she’d taken the previous day. Our house, which is a fairly unpretentious place, gleamed invitingly in the pictures. The kitchen beamed back at us, the dining room glowed, and light ricocheted off the living room floor. The upstairs bedrooms somehow had gained at least three feet in square footage and even the Pepto Bismol tile in the guest bathroom wasn’t so bad.
          A small frown crossed the realtor’s forehead when the second bathroom popped into view.
          “I’ve noticed . . . see the tile there? The grout is a bit darker here.”
          I’m sure she’d reviewed all the photos before coming to see us, but as though the thought had just occurred to her, she said, “You know what? If you could just scrub that with a little bleach, I could re-take that before I go. Oh, and if we put some of those beautiful tiger lilies you have on the counter it would look terrific!”
          It was already a humid 85 degrees outside, but we need to sell this house. 
          I dug around through my stripped kitchen cupboards, found something that could pass as a vase, put on my sandals, and went outside. Pickings were a little lean so I climbed the hill next to the house and clipped two tiger lilies and one day lily, along with a few ferns.
          My morning shower was already proving to have been pointless. Perspiring, I left my now-muddy sandals outside and carried the flowers and the vase upstairs.
          I dug the bottle of Clorox out from under the sink. Black shorts and a black and white tee was not the best uniform for this job.
          Hoping she wouldn’t suddenly decide to come up and oversee my efforts, I stripped down to my underwear and got to work.
          I didn’t see a huge change in the grout but I was a little cooler.

Thursday, July 13, 2017

Bucket List Revelation

     Thanks to the wild range of jobs I've held over the span of my life - waitress, ice cream scooper, CIA clerk, television production, hospital secretary, teacher - I've had a few experiences I might not have had otherwise.

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

Stress versus a stroll with a little dog



So that snowball has started its roll down the hill and it’s picking up momentum and objects at an alarming rate.

Monday, July 3, 2017

Monday Errands





Leaving the YMCA today (my water aerobics was class back to normal, thank heaven), I stopped my car for one of the many walkers who hoof it around the complex.