Tyler, the Roto-Rooter guy, fixed all the plumbing problems next door, the tub drain shut-off that barely opened and the stinky basement floor drain that needed a new auto shut-off valve. He even removed the old toilet seat when he heard me tell Katie that I had a new one and offered to install it at no charge. I put it on and told him he could tighten the nuts. Guys don't seem to understand that I like to do stuff, even Durwood doesn't get it, and for sure DS & DIL1 don't. I'm a big fan of home improvement and landscaping projects but they won't let parents help; I think they're afraid of breaking us. *sigh* I just don't feel that fragile. But I do get to babysit, so that's a great thing. And I got the laundry done before bedtime, barely but it counts, right?
September 7--Lorenzo Lotto, Venus and Cupid. Alana stood in the doorway of the old school's study hall with her fist on her hips. What had Edwin been thinking when he decided to buy this decaying pile of stones? He had grand ideas of how it would look when it was complete but in the meantime they were living in one room, the caretaker's studio, and cooking meals with an electric skillet, a toaster, and an old perk coffee pot. They didn't even have a microwave. Whenever Alana thought of that lack she craved a hot, greasy bag of Orville Redenbacher's microwave popcorn. She could almost smell the distinctive aroma of butter-flavored oil that persisted long after the last hull was Water Pik-ed from between her teeth. Her goal for the long holiday weekend was to get the study hall's walls washed down and painted. She'd already cleared out the broken chairs and scarred desks, next she had to figure out how to take down the ghastly oil painting that hung on the rear wall. It depicted a reclining Venus, nude of course, with a few flower petals covering her crotch and an equally naked Cupid standing next to her peeing on her. What had possessed someone to hang such an inappropriate artwork in a boys' school?
You know where that's leading, right? Sure you do, you read enough beach books, trashy novels, whatever you call those brightly colored paperbacks you can buy in airport bookstores. The painting's an undiscovered Master that sells at auction for an unheard of price and they get to keep it all although they're good enough people to share with the school's penurious original owners. The sun's in the heavens and all's right with the world, by the end of the book anyway. Okay, I'm off to slurp up a few Cheerios and get ready to flee the joint--for the day anyway. Ta-ta!
--Barbara
1 comment:
Bon voyage you happy runaway! An afternoon at the Clearing sounds like it's exactly what you need!!
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