Posted tagged ‘Laundry’

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“I saw goats. A party can’t be all bad when you have goats,” Lucy said.”

September 25, 2017

Today is amazing. When I went to get the papers, I was surprised how hot it is. The sun is bright. There isn’t even the slightest breeze. It is a summer day in late June.

Okay, I admit I am more aware of English grammar than the average person. I was, after all, an English teacher so I cringe when I hear bad grammar. I liken it to a musician playing a wrong note or a singer singing out of tune. I am more tolerant of conversation sprinkled with bad grammar. I don’t acknowledge it. Television, however, is a different story. Writers are eliminating the objective case, especially after a preposition. It is between you and me, never between you and I. Today it has been three times so far that good grammar has been tossed on TV. Detective, military and police procedure shows use experts in each field to check the plot details. Maybe it is time to hire an English teacher to check scripts for bad grammar.

My laundry is now downstairs leaning against the cellar door, and I am actually going to wash it today, a monumental task. I am also going to do a couple of errands. I think the sun has energized me.

Last night was so very foggy, a halloween sort of night. I expected something dressed in black to jump from behind the bushes to scare me. Actually, I was a little disappointed when nothing happened.

I once milked a goat. At first nothing happened. My technique was bad so I kept trying. My fingers were about to give out when the first squirt of milk hit the bucket. I felt so accomplished.

A herd of goats were responsible for my only motorcycle injury. It was in Ghana. I saw the herd start to cross the road so I stopped and waited. It changed direction and ran right into me. The bike started to fall so I grabbed it, and in the process got a burn on my leg, a round burn which took a long time to heal. The burn and the boils were my only Peace Corps medical issues.

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“All was silent as before, all silent save the dripping rain.”

September 23, 2017

Last night was a restless dog night. I have been a light sleeper since Gracie has been sick so I hear her moving around and usually turn on the light to check on her. Last night I turned on the light at 2 as I heard her having a problem settling in her crate. She finally gave up on the crate and got on the couch with me. I couldn’t sleep so I checked my e-mail and turned on the TV. By the time I went back to sleep, it was close to 4. Gracie meanwhile had returned to her crate. This morning I woke at 9. Gracie slept. I just sat for a while. I turned on the news and still sat. Gracie still slept. At 10 I roused myself from my stupor, made coffee and took Gracie outside while I got the papers. She is now sleeping on the couch. I am still awake.

The wind and rain are gone but the dampness and the clouds are still here. The paper says partial sun today. Being a bit literal, I’m figuring only a bit of the sun will appear. Parts of it will be missing. I’m thinking all of the sun will be missing given the weather right now.

When I was a kid, a wet Saturday was the worst. Too much rain meant staying inside the house trying to find stuff to keep me occupied. At noon, there was always Creature Double Feature. I figure that’s where I got my love for old black and white science fiction movies. I’d read if I could find a quiet place in our small house filled with too many people. I could play in the cellar and ride my bike in a circle around the stairs, but that got old quickly. Sometimes my mother would let us out, more for her sanity than anything else. If it was still matinee season, we’d convince my dad to drive my brother and me uptown to the movie theater. My dad always said yes. He was only too glad to be rid of us. That was about it for a rainy Saturday.

When I was kid, I used to eat sardines. I’d open the can with the attached metal key, slide the flap thing into the key and then roll back the top with the key hoping to get the can open. Sometimes I’d lose the lid when the can was only partially opened. That meant digging out the sardines in pieces. I’d eat the sardines, whole or in pieces, on Saltine crackers. The idea of eating sardines grosses me out now. They look disgusting arranged in rows in the tins.

I have no idea what today will bring. I don’t know if I’ll muster the energy to do the laundry. The only certainty is I’m going to take a nap.

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“Autumn is the time of picturesque tranquility.”

September 22, 2017

Last night the wind sounded like a freight train. I know it’s a cliche, but it perfectly describes what I was hearing. The wind blew in gales. In between the gales it was quiet if only by comparison. I think it was the wildest wind since the start of the storm. This is day four of the remnants of Jose. Earlier this morning it was raining loudly enough to hear. At other times the rain has been misty, quiet. The wind is still raging.

My deck and yard are filled with fallen leaves and smaller branches. Every time I go out, a few leaves are blown inside the house. All of them are shriveled and dead.

The birds are at the feeders in such numbers the sunflower and thistle feeders need to be refilled. I’ll just have to brave the rain. I don’t want to disappoint all those birds.

I did finish my errands yesterday. At the doctor’s they had snacks to thank us for getting our flu shots. I had a chocolate chip cookie and a mini-cupcake. Last night the spot where I got the shot itched a bit, and the spot hurts a little today. I’ll just have to be brave.

Last night I was cold so I grabbed a light blanket and snuggled a bit under it. This morning when I woke up the house was at 67˚. Since then, the temperature has risen a couple of degrees but not enough as I’m still a bit chilly, but I refuse to turn on the heat this early in the season. I’m still taken aback by having to use the AC the last couple of days because of the humidity. It is late for the AC and too early for the heat. Weather has gone amok.

Today is the autumn equinox, a beginning and an end: the end of summer and the beginning of fall, autumn. The nights will now be longer than the days.

When I was a kid, I loved when the leaves were falling. On our way to school, we would walk in the gutters kicking leaves and watching them fly. I remember yellow the most.

The only things on my to do list are to order groceries and finally get the laundry finished, or rather get it started. It is still upstairs. I have no ambition whatsoever, but I guess I could scare up enough energy to order groceries on line.

Rain is predicted for tomorrow as are wind gusts up to 45 MPH. Sunday, Monday and Tuesday are supposed to be sunny and in the low 70’s. I’ll believe it when I see it. All this rain has made me gloomy and skeptical.

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“Birds are the eyes of heaven, and flies are the spies of hell.”

September 18, 2017

About a month ago my friend’s house was infiltrated by flies, large, noisy flies. She sat armed and ready to smack any fly within her range of vision. I helped by doing reconnaissance. Neither of us could figure out where the flies had come from. Well, the flies have moved here so I am now suffering through the first plague of South Dennis. The flies, big, ugly flies with green bodies are all over the house, at least down stairs here where I can see them. I am also armed with a rolled up newspaper. Last night I counted ten of them roosting, sort of roosting, on my ceiling. Any that alighted on the window or any other surface was unceremoniously dispatched. By the time I went to bed there were only three on the ceiling, but then came this morning. I have slain at least five of them and shooed three or four more out the front door, but more are by the closed windows in the living room hoping to escape. I don’t see any here in the den. Perhaps the bodies of their comrades are warning them to stay away (I know they aren’t sentient, but I can still hold on to a false hope).

I abided flies in Ghana. They were a part of living there. Few were in my house, but the market was filled with flies. I had to ignore them or I would never have bought meat. Ponder that for a while.

My laundry is being brought down here where it will sit leaning against the cellar door until I get tired of looking at it. From past experiences, that could be a while. When I worked, I had to do all my errands and chores on the weekends when I had the most time. Everything always got done. Now I figure I have eons of time so I procrastinate.

Yesterday I went to my neighbors’ son’s tenth birthday party. It was great fun, and I got to sit and chat with my other neighbors whom I usually just see driving by my house when we just wave at each other. The food at the party was spectacular: tasty chicken wings, sausages, steak, white rice, plantains and Brazilian chicken salad. The last two dishes came from The Brazilian Grill in Hyannis. My neighbor always gets plantain knowing how much I like it. We all sang Happy Birthday to Branden. First we all sang in English then the Brazilian guests sang in Portuguese. What I like is everyone always claps during the singing of each song. We all got to drink Caipirinhas, Brazil’s national cocktail. It is made with cachaça (there) and vodka (here), sugar and lime. The limes are muddled with brown sugar then ice and vodka are added. I had a few. We all did.

I have nothing on my dance card for today except maybe finish the book I’m reading so I can go to the library tomorrow and get more. I did fill the bird feeders this morning so I do have a sense of accomplishment. I’ll take that as enough for today.

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“Look after your laundry, and your soul will look after itself.”

September 11, 2017

I’m late this morning. I slept in and so did Gracie. She sleeps in her crate for most of the night then joins me on the couch at no particular time. Today it was close to 7:30. I helped her get on the couch then got comfy and went back to sleep. That has become our daily ritual.

Last night was an afghan night, and the chill is still in the air mostly in the back of my house, in the shade. I wear a sweatshirt now while I wait for Gracie to finish in the yard. While I was outside, I noticed the bird feeders were empty so I filled two with sunflower seeds and another with thistle. Immediately, chickadees went for the sunflower and gold finches for the thistle. They arrived so quickly I figured they were hanging around on branches waiting and hoping. I’m glad I didn’t disappoint.

My dance card is pretty empty. I do have two errands which I’ll finish this afternoon. My inside plants need watering so that’s on my other list. The dust in this room is almost bad enough to force me to clean it but not yet. Maybe in a few days. I espouse the maxim that dusting today still means dusting tomorrow. It is a never ending chore.

When I was a kid, my mother cleaned the house while I was in school. It was a miracle of sorts. I’d leave for school and when I got home, the house was clean, the dishes washed and the beds made. My mother was like the shoemaker’s elves. The only chores I ever saw her do were cooking dinner and doing dishes at night and taking clothes off the line in the backyard.

We lived in a duplex so we shared the backyard with our immediate neighbor. We each had our own clotheslines, either two or three apiece. I forget which. The end of the lines were attached to metal poles which were green but always seemed to need paint. I remember the silver-colored metal underneath the green. Below the lines was pitch or what we called hot top. It was square-shaped except for the small walkway leading to the back door. The rest of the yard was grass. My mother kept her clothespins in a bag which attached to the line and could be slid up and down so she had easy access to the clothespins.

My mother hung the laundry upside down. I never asked her why. I just figured that’s how laundry is hung. What I remember the most are the sheets doubled over the lines. In my mind’s eye, they are all white. I can still see them billowing and flapping, and I remember the sound of the sheets in wind. I also remember running between and under the sheets. My mother always yelled at us.

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“The uniform makes for brotherhood, since when universally adopted it covers up all differences of class and country.”

August 29, 2017

Yesterday was a lazy day. I watered the newly planted flowers and took a shower. That’s it for the day except for the two naps I had. My mother would have said I must have needed the sleep. Today, however, will be different. It is the dreaded laundry day. It’s not the doing but the carrying I hate, the lugging of all that laundry up two flights of stairs. I do it in shifts: one flight, a pause then the other flight. Sometimes the pause lasts a day. The laundry sits on the rocking chair glaring at me.

The day is cloudy and a bit dark. I felt chilly so I shut the windows. It is only 67˚ and won’t get much higher. What happened to the dog days of August?

I remember late summer and school shopping with my mother. The first stop was always the shoe store. My mother had to drag the four of us though only my brother and I needed new shoes. My sisters were still young and didn’t go to school yet. At the store, they’d measure our feet with that silver slide and then have us put each foot, one at a time, into the x-ray machine. I always thought it was so neat seeing the x-ray of the bones in my feet. My mother bought sturdy shoes for us hoping they’d last a while. The next stop was for new uniform clothes. I needed white blouses, a blue wool skirt and a blue cowboy looking tie. My brother needed white shirts and a blue tie. The Children’s Corner, a clothing store up town, carried the uniforms. Uptown was sort of close so we’d walk. My mother bought me a few blouses but only a single skirt. She’d also buy a couple of long-sleeve shirts for my brother. From there we’d head to my favorite stop, Woolworth’s, for school supplies. I got to pick out my pencil case, lunch box and school bag. We’d buy crayons, always Crayola, glue and pads of paper, the ones with the Indian chief on the front. I was so excited with all the purchases and was thrilled to carry the bag home.

When I was working at the high school, I used to call my mother this time of year and asked her when she was taking me school shopping. My mother would laugh, and that was her only response. I hoped for more, shoes at least.

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“we can watch x-files together while we browse the internet for info on area 51?”

August 27, 2017

I’m not sure the adjectives running through my head are quite descriptive enough to tell you about the morning, but I’ll give it my best shot, the old college try. (Every now and then I do like to pepper my musing with a few idioms.) Today is a delight filled with sunshine, blue skies, cool temperatures and no humidity. It is a quiet day, almost a throwback Sunday from the 50’s when church and Sunday family dinners were the highlights of the day.

I have a couple of errands. I need bird seed and the two things I mentioned yesterday: hot dogs and toilet paper. I also need to plant the flowers I bought the other day and any other perennials I might find today. Those are the only items on my lists, and my dance card is totally empty for the rest of the week. The plays are done, my friends are traveling and my larder is filled. I do have some laundry, as usual, but I haven’t yet run out of underwear. I was thinking a Mad Hatter move and ordering some new ones so I don’t have to do wash quite yet, but even I think that’s might be a bit extreme and massively lazy.

I heard acorns hitting the deck again yesterday. The spawns are at it again. I don’t go barefoot out there anymore, and poor Gracie yelped when she stepped on an acorn. The spawns seeking vengeance against me. I swear I heard cheering when I first stepped on an acorn remnant.

Close Encounters of the Third Kind is celebrating its 40th anniversary. I’m watching it now which I expect explains my delay in posting. I can’t take my eyes off the screen when the UFO’s are on it. They are amazing with their colored lights, just like Barry said when he called them ice cream and toys. I smiled the whole time. It is still a wonder of a movie.

I’m in the camp of those who believe there is intelligent life elsewhere, not just on Earth, though I admit I sometimes wonder about Earth. It seems a bit of a conceit to think we are it.

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“Because once you’re afraid of one thing, you can get scared of a lot of stuff.”

August 3, 2017

The air is so humid it feels damp. The sky is gray. The slight breeze does nothing to clear the air. We are starting days of hot weather. I will be a hermit sitting in the cool house with doors and windows closed. The Sox game last night was rained out. There was thunder and lightning. It missed us.

My laundry is done, but the pile sits in the living room waiting to be brought upstairs. That’s progress to me and a check off the to-do list.

Ghost Shark is today’s unbelievable movie. The shark can appear in water, any water, including bathtubs and water coolers. It doesn’t eat the bodies. It is after all a ghost but it does lop off heads or cut the bodies in half. Even to me this is one strange movie.

Clowns don’t scare me, haven’t ever scared me, though the clown in Stephen King’s It is scary. I grew up with Clarabell. He honked instead off talked except he did say good-bye on the very last Howdy Doody show. Maybe it’s clown make-up which scares people or their bad taste in colorful clothes with ruffles. I guess clown shoes don’t help much either.

I admit the man with the hook scared me when I was a kid. My father told us the story with heightened drama, hand gestures and the occasional grabs of our knees which made us jump. When he and my mother once went grocery shopping, we were alone which was fine until we heard scratching on the screen and no other sounds. It scared us enough we hid under the bed probably the first spot a crazed killer would look, but we didn’t have the time to discuss the best hiding place in the house. We just ran. It was, of course, my father. He thought it was funny. We didn’t at least until we caught our breaths and our hearts stopped beating wildly in our chests.

I do like to be scared but not about real things. I never expect boogeymen in the bushes or that my house will be targeted by roving marauders. I keep my inside doors open. I have no window shades. The curtains stay open to the sun though not all windows even have curtains. If I hear a noise, I usually investigate, a little timidly but I go anyway. The other night the dog’s backyard lights were triggered. She was inside. I went out on the deck to check the yard but neither saw nor heard anything. I just shrugged at the mystery and went back inside the house. I left the inside door open.

The first place I ever lived alone was in Ghana. It took a bit of adjustment, but after a while I enjoyed being by myself. My house was right by the back gate which I sometimes had to climb over to get back into the school compound after hours. The watchman pretended not to hear me so he could stay by his bedding and his fire. My inside door was always open even then. My house was broken into one night. I was sleeping outside and slept through it all. Nothing much was stolen as I didn’t have much. My camera was found outside the house. You couldn’t buy film for it in Ghana so it was useless to the thief. I had very little money which was gone, but Peace Corps reimbursed us. I had my pocket picked at the train station and was the victim of an attempted purse snatching. Despite all of those, I was never afraid.

I have lived alone my entire time in this house. I haven’t ever heard scratching on the screen or eerie sounds at night. Gracie used to bark at sounds but doesn’t anymore unless there is a knock at the door or the bell is rung. So much for my watch dog.  Regardless, I feel perfectly safe.

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“Don’t Trust Blindly If in shark infested waters, don’t assume the fin coming toward you is a dolphin.”

July 30, 2017

The morning is lovely. It is sunny and warm with a cloudless blue sky. I was surprised when I took Gracie out at how warm it is. My house is still nighttime chilly especially here in the den which the sun won’t reach until the late afternoon.

The new renters next door were laughing and talking until at least 2:30. I kept my window closed which muffled most of the noise. When I woke up, at 7:30, I was tempted to wake them, but I couldn’t figure out how without annoying my neighbors. Even now they still haven’t stirred.

My yesterday’s list is now my today’s list as movie night was postponed until tonight. My laundry is growing moss, maybe even legs of its own. I have to go down the cellar anyway so it’ll get it done.

I bought a Venus flytrap. It’s a small one so we’re all safe. Okay, that last sentence is from my B science fiction movie fascination. I’m imagining the plant growing and growing to man eating height, sort of a Little Shop of Horrors Audrey without the pictures. I don’t know why I bought it, but it amused me. Maybe that’s enough.

It is shark week on the syfy channel. The new movie tonight is 5-Headed Shark Attack surpassing by two heads the old 3-Headed Shark attack of last year. The new shark is shaped like a starfish and invades the beaches of Puerto Rico. I can’t even, with my wild imagination, visualize a shark looking like a star fish. I wonder if it has any attributes of star fish like regenerating its arms. If so, stay out of the ocean.

I find myself getting more sentimental as I get older. Puppy videos kill me. My eyes get a bit teary. Happy or sad movie scenes do the same thing to me. Even The Star Spangled Banner touches me. By the time I’m eighty, I’ll be a blubbering old lady tearing up at commercials. All the drug side-effects will have me weeping uncontrollably.

I watched the Red Sox last night. They won in 11 innings in exciting circumstances. Sandy Leon, one of their catchers, slid into home and managed, somehow, to escape the tag. The problem, though, is staying awake until the ends of these games which last so long they seem interminable. Sox games are averaging 3 hours, 11 minutes, and 34 seconds, the longest of any team in baseball, not an enviable record.

During last night Sox’s game, Jonny Gomes, who was on the 2013 World Series champ team, was the NESN color commentator. He said the Sox batters were nipping at the bit. I love a good mixed metaphor.

It is time to face the dreaded laundry.

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“Adventure in life is good; consistency in coffee even better.”

July 11, 2017

When I first took Gracie out this morning, it was misting. After that it started to rain. I could hear it on the roof. But now, it seems to have stopped leaving the day still dark and chilly from the dampness. It is uninviting.

A few of the neighborhood kids were outside yesterday riding their bikes. Whatever or whoever had held them hostage has let them go. That’s the first time I’ve seen them all summer.

Today is in-house chores like watering plants and doing laundry. I’m thinking I’ll stay in my cozy clothes and take an afternoon nap. Gracie is already napping.

My sisters and I always have the small print reaction to drugs and such. If only 3% of people get a rash, we’ll each have a rash. Yesterday I had a follow-up check for the laser procedure I had on my eyes, the laser iridotomy.  The doctor checked and then explained that for 1% of those who have the procedure, it doesn’t work; of course, I am among that 1%. That means another, more intricate procedure to safeguard my eyes by releasing the pressure as they do for people with glaucoma. I called my sister and told her about the 1% and she said of course you would be among them. My other sister said the same thing in the same words. It’s a family thing.

When I was a kid, I caught all the kid diseases. I remember lying in bed in my dark room when I had the measles and being bored to death doing nothing. The only things I remember about chicken pox are they have nothing to do with chickens and you can’t scratch or you’ll get scars. Mumps made it difficult to chew and my face was swollen in places. My mother took everything in stride despite the fact that over time we passed the illnesses to one another, and she was our nurse going up and down the stairs whenever we needed her or thought we did. Luckily, when we were all done being sick, we were none the worse, not even a scar.

According to a new study, coffee can make our lives longer. I’m thinking I’ll live to be well over 100 given how much I drink coffee.

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