For the last eon or so, The Squire and I (mostly The Squire) have been working on remodeling the kitchen.
Yesterday morning I opened the drawer to grab a clean dishcloth and discovered We Have Mice. Lots and lots of mice. (Or, perhaps, just a few, but they were very busy.) All three drawers in that cabinet had to be emptied and wiped down with ammonia and water, and every dish cloth and tea towel I own had to be washed with bleach and hot water.
One of life’s mysteries – I get out a clean dish cloth every morning and use it to wipe the counters and the stove, and then it goes into the laundry. Why, oh why, does every single one look as if The Squire borrowed it to check the oil in the car?
Several weeks ago The Squire had to pull up part of the bathroom floor and repair a leaky toilet. We both tried to convince ourselves that the odor was dissipating, but we finally had to admit that it not only wasn’t going away, but was actually getting worse.
And so once again he had to pull up carpet and floor boards, put a mirror and flashlight into the crawl space, and discovered that in the process of repairing the toilet, the pipe that connects the commode to the septic tank had come loose. No real damage done, but the aroma was overwhelming, to say the least. One more trip to Lowe’s for yet another wax seal, and the job was completed.
I do not move around much when I sleep. I have bursitis in both hips, so I really can’t sleep on my side, and I find the best position is flat on my back, with one leg or the other pulled up like a flamingo. I can sleep all night, slide out of bed and smooth the covers and you’d never know I’d ever been there. Today when I was hanging out the laundry, I found a large worn spot right in the middle of the bottom sheet, just about where my bottom rests. Apparently, runching back and forth is harder on the sheets and the thrashing about The Squire does. Fortunately, I have a piece of percale left from making costumes, so I can mend it.
Which is a darned sight easier than fixing toilets.