This weekend’s assignment is to buy flowers. This is a great idea and I understand the concept, but at this point unless I plop them on top of the washing machine they are impractical. Obviously, I need to go ahead and print out the entire January Cure schedule so I don’t do things like decide my big project will be gutting the laundry room the day before I’m supposed to deep clean the kitchen <cough>.
There were small appliances, beaucoup light bulbs, cleansers, sponge mop heads from mops long gone, vacuum bags, dog grooming supplies, and tons of miscellaneous gleefus accumulated here for lack of a better place to put it. I purged the heck out of this room. Filled the dumpster for the first time ever. The purging of the laundry room was a resounding success. However, all the leftover stuff had to land somewhere while I was cleaning those near empty shelves. That place was every available space on already cluttered kitchen counters. I have, thus, doubled the work for myself in the weekend project of getting rid of kitchen clutter and deep cleaning the kitchen. ARGH!
Before I get started, let me tell you an amusing story about that laundry purge. Notice in the photo of the closet shelves, that there are no longer any sliding doors. John removed them for me. The space is tiny. The door into the house had to be closed while he removed the sliding doors and took them, one at a time, outside to the barn. I was in the house. I did not realize he had leaned one of the sliding doors against the interior door so that he could open the outer door. I opened the interior door to take a peek at his progress which, of course, caused the sliding door to begin to fall. I did mention how tiny this space is right? This space is, in fact, shorter than a door. I made a desperate grab to catch the falling door, missed, the sliding door hit the exterior door slamming the interior door against my arm and pinning me to the door like a rabbit in a snare. Thankfully, my cell phone was in my pocket and I had the presence of mind to grab it and call John before he got back from the barn and tried to open the exterior door. Unfortunately, his cell phone was not in his pocket and it began ringing uselessly about 15 feet away from me in the bear trap. In desperation I pulled, twisted, maneuvered, pulled, twisted and maneuvered my arm out of the door (thank god fat can be manipulated and there’s an argument for having that piece of pie). The problem of a possibly amputated arm became how now to get into the laundry room.
The thought of just building a new laundry facility and a new wheelchair ramp, oh I dunno, out a window somewhere, occurred. I’m seriously contemplating removing the interior door and adding a sliding barn door there anyway, so my second thought was “Just get the damned Jigsaw and we’ll cut the interior door out of here now and be done”. John, thank god my kids grew up watching MacGyver, found a steel rod, bent it into a Z, managed to open the exterior door enough to stick the rod through, catch hold of the lodged door and lift it up out of the way and got it out of there. That process typed out much quicker and easier than it actually took, but he got it done and we were back in business.
This is amusing now because A. I didn’t lose an arm and B. didn’t give the local fire department an interesting story to tell news crews. My grand plans for being Donna Reed once again thwarted by my inner Lucille Ball.
Okay, now to get back to the Cure. John just left for work so I promise not to try anything remotely lethal until he gets home.