Return to the Great Clean-Out & other stories of mischief, madness and mayhem

Back in March, I received a card in the mail for the Epilepsy Foundation.  They were offering to pick up donations.  I went to their website.  The next pick-up date was too soon, so I scheduled a pick up for the end of April.  I don't remember why, but I had to change that to mid-May.  When that was coming closer, I was sick.  In the first throes of it, too, when I was miserable.  So, I changed it again.  The next date was June 29th.  I was just getting my strength and stamina back, but the piles of give-away were threatening to overwhelm the back room, so I left it for the 29th.

I spent the four days before the 29th working my, ah...fingers to the bone.  My fingernails to the quick would be more literally accurate!  I did some final cleaning out of the space-behind-the-other-closet.  AKA, the Cubbyhole.  It seems that at some point during her high school days, my daughter decided to clear the unwanted memories of Jr. High by tossing everything into the Cubbyhole.  Then, when she broke up with her first boyfriend (that's a great story, but I don't think I could tell it here), it appears she shoved all the momentos of her time with him also into the Cubbyhole.  Then--in a moment of pure ditziness--she dumped her hamster cage (sans hamster) in there.  WITHOUT cleaning it first!  Ugh!  There were pine shavings and hamster terds (hamsterds?) everywhere!  The capper to all this?  Because the used shavings and hamsterds were in there, some cat (probably Jessie) used it as a litter box, er, hole.  You get the picture.

Actually, there are no pictures.  My camera has evanesced.  Decamped.  Disappeared.  My suspicions are that a cat, in their sprawling on my table, knocked it off into the garbage.  I, obviously, didn't notice and disposed of said garbage.

 

Odds are 50/50, it's either Bebe or Jessicat.  (Above pics were taken using my CyberLink YouCam.  On my laptop.  )

I still need to wash in the Cubbyhole, but it's been much to hot to crawl around in there.  Then, I get to pull out all my parents' old Christmas decorations.  Who feels like doing that during the dog days of summer?  Not me!

Um, back to the donation pick up.  "D-day," as I'd come to think of it, was closing in fast.  The evening prior, I hauled everything to the driveway by the corner of the house.  Note: I hauled it. Me and myself.  I had very carefully read the acceptability reqs for "small" furniture and there wasn't anything there that I couldn't move by myself.

D-day dawned bright and clear.  We were breakfasting when the truck came, so I didn't run out and watch.  When I did go out there, I was flummoxed.  Perplexed.  Vexed.  The driver had taken all the boxes and bags, a mirror and...nothing else.  The lackwit had the audacity to pull the rocking chair pad out of a bag and leave it with the rocker that he refused to take!

We called.  The lady said that it was left to the drivers' discretion.  I told her there was nothing there that I--a fifty year old women--could not move by myself.  Any reasonably healthy adult male should have been able to handle it.  But then, I stopped myself and said "I'm not going to argue with you.  I'll call someplace else."  And I unceremoniously hung up.

I lugged the rocker, two end tables, head- and foot-boards, rails and slats for a twin bed, a sewing chest (which I could lift with one finger--use your imagination as to which finger) and some other odds and ends, into the garage.  Just when you thought it was safe to go into the garage.  Well, easier to go in there, anyway.  I haven't yet called Salvation Army (the only other place around here with furniture pick up), but I will.  When they come, they'll take the love seat and dining table and chairs that are in the garage, too.  Maybe even the buffet and hutch.  Wow, maybe, someday, I could park in the garage!  Huh.  Well, I can dream.

The overhang over the backyard door is still...hanging over it.  I need a reciprocating saw.  AKA a 'sawsall'.  Today I was outside and my northerly neighbor waved and asked me how my mom was.  We got to talking about all kinds of things.  Very suburbanite--talking at the fence.  We were looking at the overhang, which now lists sadly.  He said I should tell my southerly neighbor that I needed/wanted it down and it'd be down in no time.  I hadn't thought of that.  That was the neighbor who helped cut up the half of a tree that lightening knocked down.  I don't want to impose, though.  But...I thought maybe I could ask him to borrow a reciprocating saw and tell him what I want to do.  I'm sure, being male, he'd think I couldn't handle it (which is questionable) and offer to do it for me.  If not, well, I'd have the sawsall and would just start cutting the darn thing apart!

Yeah, baby!

Over the last few days, I worked in the storage room.  I finally assembled the last bookshelf.  Tabitha came up to help.  Bebe hid under the spare bed in there.  I brought a fan up, removed the floor register and placed a piece of the old hamster cage over the vent, set the fan right by the register and turned it on high.  It was tolerable to work in there.  Once it gets to mid-afternoon, it becomes too hot.  But, after the last bookshelf was put up, I was rearranging books mostly.  Trying not to let myself get sidetracked reading the backs or flyleafs of the books took some willpower.

Today, as I mentioned, I went outside.  It was hot--about 88 degrees.  But there was a steady breeze and I was just checking the yards.  I pulled some weeds.  BIG, tall weeds!  About 4 feet tall.  No kidding.  I got the bypass loppers out and...  No, really!  That's what they're called!

Bypass Loppers

Anyway, I cut down the suckers growing by the fence.  Suckers?  You know, when a tree or bush has shoots growing near it?  Yeah, those.  I lopped them off and hauled them to the front.  Tomorrow is yard waste pick up.  No time like the present!

When I got back inside, I poured myself a full 16 oz glass of water, added a splash of ReaLemon and drank the whole thing in just a few minutes.  I had really been sweating.  Since I had done such hard physical labor and had sweated so much, I figured I deserved a treat.  So I did what any hard-working, middle-aged, menopausal, chocoholic would do.

I made chocolate chip cookies.

And, since they were warm and I didn't want to raise my body temperature I...  What?  Wait until they cooled?  Why?  I like my cookies warm and mushy.  Just past pudding-like.  Besides, I had ice-cream with them!

Well, I have virtual crops to harvest and cyber babies to feed!  Til next time...