How many ways can I stall writing this week's column? Let me count the ways: 1. Read old columns, hoping for inspiration. 2. Read other columnists, hoping for an idea. 3. Take a nap. 4. Remember I need to water plants. 5. Get out of my recliner and water the plants. 6. Decide we need to fill the car with gas. 7. Take the list of the few items I have for my never-ending grocery needs. 8. Run to the local big box store/gas station. Two birds, one stone. 9. Help David install a new thermostat that is supposed to be new AND improved. 10. Spend an hour trying to get it to latch onto our internet before I figured out I inputted the wrong password. 11. Spend another hour trying to decide if I can program it to automatically switch from heat to air conditioning and back without having to do it on my phone. Can I get any lazier? (Don't answer that.) 12. Decide I need to start dinner. 13. Spend several minutes looking up recipes that utilize my limited spice knowledge and meager stores in the freezer. 14. Make dinner and eat. 15. Load and start the dishwasher. 16. Hand wash what won't fit even after I've played dish Jenga. 17. Watch television. 18. Go to bed and vow to get the column done first thing in the morning.
Good morning, y'all. Now it's morning and I have no more excuses, so I guess I'd better get busy.
I didn't get the thermostat programmed like I thought I could, so we woke up to a very cold house. I didn't mind it while we were in bed since I love sleeping like a hibernating bear (no cracks about my resemblance to a naked bear). Sadly, our remote-controlled fireplace is on the fritz. It gave us a few problems last year, but we managed to keep it limping along so guess who didn't think to work on repairs until we needed it? Two days ago, David tore into it and ordered a few parts which are supposed to come today. I sure hope it works. I just can't do without it. I've gotten very spoiled.
I worry that our poor teenage granddaughter will freeze. She's not as used to hardships as we are. (Stop laughing. I know I'm a weenie.) We furnished her with a nice space heater and electric blanket so she's okay while she's in her bedroom located on the north side of the house. I guess it's character- building. People 100 years ago didn't have heated bathrooms or indoor bathrooms. Believe me when I say using an outhouse is no fun. If you've watched old television shows from as recently as the early '70s you'd think no one had toilets.
Our house was modernish when I was growing up with a floor furnace, 'swamp' cooler and indoor plumbing. We kids got to experience the wonders of living like a 'pioneer' while spending time in an old farmhouse when we'd visit our aunt and uncle out in the country. We got to help with the harvest which I found to be a lot of fun. I couldn't toss the bales onto the truck, but I could stack. Anyway, our sweet aunt didn't want us wandering outside at night so she'd furnish us with a–I kid you not–large coffee can in our room in case we got the urge in the night. I don't remember using it, but it made our own house seem ultra-modern.
I do remember when I was not old enough to go to school yet we lived in a little compound of houses owned by the company my dad worked for. Those houses did not have indoor facilities, so we'd have to go to the community bathhouse on Saturday nights. In between mom would bathe us in the kitchen sink. I remember one time going to the outhouse and spotting a snake in a nearby tree. Mom and the other mothers grabbed rakes, hoes and brooms and made quick work of that little invader. I found out years later that the canyon where the houses were located was known for its abundant rattlesnake community. YIKES!
I remember my mom and the other mothers using old wringer-type washing machines. One neighbor girl got her arm caught in the wringer and my mom had to run to help her mother get her arm out. I don't know if it did any damage. Clothes had to be hung on a line outside to dry. I still love the smell of wash fresh off the line although I haven't used one in years. Our suburban neighbors would think I was a little 'eccentric' if I did that now.