Monday, May 16, 2011


I'd forgotten the many chores of setting up housekeeping again. Despite moving back in with my sons, in my own house (!), still there remain gaps and crevasses which I must either fill or straddle, trying not to fall in, lost.

Things which are useful & handy:
1. A bed.
2. Sheets.
3. Blankets.
4. Pillows.
5. An iron. Yes, I still iron stuff. Miraculously, there still exists here an ironing board. It's lonely, though.
6. A broom with a handle attached and bristles. At Lowes: "Giant Corn Broom"!
7. TP roller. (Okay, not exactly necessary, but it prevents escaping rolls from unrolling all the way across the floor to the tub.)
8. Towel rack.
9. Hook for bathroom door.
10. Laundry basket.
11. Rug for cold tile bathroom floor.
12. An old-fashioned push-mower.
13. Etc.
14. Etc., etc.
15. Etc., etc., etc.

Other things which are useful & handy but will have to wait:
1. Lamps. (I really like light.)
2. Living room furniture. What currently exists would really blend well with the decor of the City Dump. And should soon go there. Yikes.
3. Computer -- this one is limping along. Keeping fingers crossed.

I've resurrected an old receiver which I think will hook up to some ancient speakers which I think are all compatible with a DVD player which is, I believe, of the 21st century. My heart be still.

I've repaired the 35-year-old Cuisinart. I've become handy again with a hammer and fixed some falling-apart bookcases. Now I'm gathering courage to wield the Sawz-All to go to work on the remnants of an apple tree which had to come down, sadly. Nelson gave me a Sawz-All lesson last night, showed me the proper way to hold it, the stance I should assume, when to back off, how to lean-into. Gads. Drill, baby, drill.

And Nelson, who just returned from a long-weekend backpacking/fishing/wild-turkey-hunting trip, reminded me that if I lived in a tent somewhere I would need far fewer things than those in my list above. Of course, he is completely right. But no.

(And no wild turkeys, and his fishing pole broke, and the rain started in earnest so he and his buddy returned turkeyless, troutless, happy as ever.)

My sons are the glimmering gems among the detritus of this living.


  1. ah, the basics.

    I keep hearing great things about IKEA furniture, and prices.

    And yes, 'no' to the tent. We are ladies of a certain age, after all.

    It will all come together, dear, and it is YOURS. I'd be more than happy to come up and help decorate. Or have a party when the decorating is done!

  2. You sound incredibly resourceful. I wish we could all help you out here, virtually!

  3. Busy hands are happy hands. Or so I've heard. So those young turkeys came home troutless?

  4. You women want everything; next you'll want running water, electricity, and packs of Betty Crocker cake mixes.

  5. O my dear -- I'm doing the same thing, my version, NYC apartment style -- which means no trees to saw down. I just finished cleaning and organizing the tools I've got. Hammers -- I have steel head one (I think it's steel -- or maybe it's iron?) and a rubber head one. Why the rubber head? What is it for? Why do I have it? Ah, my brother dumped it into the tools he decided were my share of my dad's after he died. Plus many sockets and socket wrenches, for which I have no use at all.)

    Good tooling, my dear -- and I sure hope your back doesn't hurt like mine does. I must quit now.

    Love, C.

  6. Sounds like you're doing great! I'm cheering you on! Geaux T.!