Posted tagged ‘making beds’

“The end-of-summer winds make people restless.”

October 9, 2014

I swear it was sunny when I went outside to get the papers. Now it is cloudy and dark. The trees in the backyard look stark against the grey sky. It is cooler than it has been. I have no complaints, though, as it was 70˚ yesterday. I went about my errands with the window down. I had a list and missed nothing, even got my flu shot.

I have been restless and don’t know the reason. I go from being on-line to reading to cleaning and finally to wandering the house looking for something to do. I have polished and dusted. I have swept the kitchen then wet mopped the floor. My timing, though, is bad. My cleaning couple come today.

I don’t remember watching my mother clean the house. She did it while we were in school. I have no idea as to her routine. I just know the house was clean and the beds were made when I got home. In the late afternoon, my mother would start to work on dinner. I remember her standing by the sink peeling potatoes. It is always 16 Washington Ave in my memories. That is where I spent most of my growing up years. Here and there are memories of earlier and later places, but I can still remember every room at 16 Washington Ave. I remember looking out the picture window at the rain or the snow or the wind blowing leaves down the street. The television was in a cabinet. There were two closets downstairs almost right next to each other, and I always wondered why the builders did it that way. The first, the larger of the two, was where the coats and boots were kept. My dad would come home from work, take off and then hang up his topcoat and put his hat on the shelf. The other closet, in a nook, wasn’t as deep. The ironing board and iron were there, and my mother used to hide Christmas presents in the back. That’s all I remember about that closet.

We always said Washington Ave, never Washington Avenue. I don’t know why.

“His socks compelled one’s attention without losing one’s respect”

September 26, 2011

Today is perfectly beautiful. The sun is warm without being hot, the sky is blue and there is a slight breeze. All week the temperature will be in the low 70’s. I doubt it gets much better than this.

My right arm is peeling, a souvenir from my Ghanaian journey. On the way up-country to Tamale, I got quite the sunburn. I told Thomas, my driver, I had to sit backwards all the way to Accra. He told me I would be uncomfortable.

Every now and then I run into a day when I have absolutely nothing going on in my head. I stare out the window hoping for some sort of inspiration and am usually disappointed. The neighborhood has a barking dog at the moment, and that’s the only excitement, and I’m stretching the meaning of excitement by even using that word. I guess this will just have to be a stream of consciousness day.

When I was young, the tops of all my socks were stretched and hung down near my shoes. My mother told me not to pull on the tops to put them on my feet. I never listened, and I really didn’t care if they were stretched. I’m not even sure if I cared if they matched. I have a friend who only wears white socks, the same kind of white socks. He never minds losing one sock.

I can sew on a button so it stays on. Sometimes I sew it so well I can’t get it into the button hole. The button has no give. My clothes can be wrinkled or faded, but I won’t wear shirts missing buttons. I even have a box of buttons so I can through and try to match the missing one. I don’t sew anything else.

Crooked pictures drive me crazy as do candles leaning to one side or the other. The rug in the living room is an area rug. It came from Turkey, and I love it for its figures and its muted colors. I have this thing about the sides being placed exactly the same on each outside board. The dog is prone to bringing her toys to that rug and play on it. She also brings a biscuit to picnic on the rug. Both things drive me crazy, but I allow them and then go back and clean up and move the rug so it is even. I figure it’s a small thing in the realm of things.

I don’t always make my bed. Strangely enough I did when I worked, and back then I left for work by 6:20 each morning. I think the reason I don’t now is every day has the potential of being a nap day, and I’d hate to mess up a well made bed.

Well, it’s time to finish. My heart is pumping. Two dogs are now barking, and Gracie is going out to investigate. I’m not sure how much more excitment I can take!